#vs the second one which does result in a proposal (and which also involved a compromising situation) that was very much intentional from

[clairesbeauchamp]

2.08 | 3.04

[iliyandanev]

Exploring Professional Practice Assignment 1 - Enquiry Proposal 

A working Title for the enquiry 

2D vs 3D Animation 

In the animation industry nowadays two types of animation are being used which are 2D and 3D. That brings the questions for this topic is the 3D animation is replacing 2D animation or it can work both ways in the industry and how it can work it?  

During my research I had to come up with an argument and answers from people giving their thoughts and people who worked in the industry know how it is. That one of the research from “Quora” published by “Hamiza A” states that 2D and 3D are not rivals, they collaborate to blend two different styles that leads the 3D to expand more and 2D’s timeless charm ensure its here to stay. The future of animation is not about replacement, it is about coexistence and innovation. 

Quora. (2019). Will 3D animation replace 2D? [online] Available at: https://www.quora.com/Will-3D-animation-replace-2D [Accessed 17 Feb. 2025]. 

But in these statements, it should have pros and cons of blending two styles in one and how it will affect the animators? I have done another research about the pros and cons of these two styles, and I found from “flearningstudio.com” and the result is different that can show which can be better but that brings the question how they work together? 

2D animation

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3D animation

Bui, S. (2024). 2D vs 3D Animation: Discovering 10 Key Differences in 2024. [online] F. Learning Studio. Available at: https://flearningstudio.com/2d-vs-3d-animation/. 

We can see that the 2D pros are one more from the 3D side showing it has not only had difference also it has limit between them. But that brings more questions into it know we know what 2D and 3D are capable of and what are the requirements as an animator in nowadays? 

Quora. (2019). What are the basic requirements for becoming an animator? [online] Available at: https://www.quora.com/What-are-the-basic-requirements-for-becoming-an-animator [Accessed 17 Feb. 2025]. 

These are answers from the same website “Quora” published by a bot showing what are the requirements as an animator nowadays. As you can see from the requirements, they still include 3D, that is it going to be modeling, rendering and more, that this element can be needed in the industry not just knowing how to develop everything into 2D style. 

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The issues involved and a methodology to investigate them 

But what are the perspectives of other people who worked in the industry or seeing the changes that can bring own arguments between 2D and 3D. I had done another research of the topics to gather data from people's opinion and “Reddit” is the place where most of the people share their opinions. 

Reddit.com. (2020). Reddit - Dive into anything. [online] Available at: https://www.reddit.com/r/ArtistLounge/comments/ek026d/has_anyone_switched_from_pursuing_2d_art_to_3d/ [Accessed 17 Feb. 2025]. 

Reddit.com. (2025). Blocked. [online] Available at: https://www.reddit.com/r/animation/comments/1by8rid/i_think_3d_animation_is_overhated/. 

The two comments of 3D being prefer in the studios has pros and cons for example the first comment by “ArtistLounge” states that his or her skill does not match with the requirements because what it allows to do is to take part in the concept art or freelancer illustrator meaning he or she doesn't have an option to be part in the industry. Instead, they must learn 3D modeling, rendering, environment and more to make it into the industry. However, the second comment by “animation” is on the other side where 3D can be a usful for the animation industry and how the 2D way is more expensive the production and how the 2D animators sees that being a 3D artist is a lazy job because most of the stuff are done by computer.  

From this analysis I have go further is by researching the scale between 2D artist and 3D artist which of this type of artist is most wanted in the industry.  

Quora. (2019). What percent of animators make good money and have successful careers? [online] Available at: https://www.quora.com/What-percent-of-animators-make-good-money-and-have-successful-careers [Accessed 17 Feb. 2025].

Quora. (2019). What is the market size for a 3D artist? And how many 3D artists are there? And their average earning? [online] Available at: https://www.quora.com/What-is-the-market-size-for-a-3D-artist-And-how-many-3D-artists-are-there-And-their-average-earning [Accessed 17 Feb. 2025]. 

This proves the point that 2D artists make more than the 3D artist however being 3D artist is flexible working from home and in studio. However, in the 2D is mostly comment working in a studio.  

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Key examples/cases to be discussed 

Is 3D taking over 2D? 

What are the requirements for animators nowadays? 

Which is better and why?  

Which part in the industry can 2D artist do? 

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Key sources and materials to be used with short comments about how they will inform Assignment 2. Sources need to be referenced in Harvard Style.  

In the interview I am going to interview my lecturer Sean Cox from the animation department. I am going to ask questions and fact about the topic 2D vs 3D to get answers from him and match it with results from the internet from articles and newspapers of how the animation industry interacts with 2D and 3D. 

Quora. (2019). Will 3D animation replace 2D? [online] Available at: https://www.quora.com/Will-3D-animation-replace-2D [Accessed 17 Feb. 2025]. 

Bui, S. (2024). 2D vs 3D Animation: Discovering 10 Key Differences in 2024. [online] F. Learning Studio. Available at: https://flearningstudio.com/2d-vs-3d-animation/. 

Quora. (2019). What are the basic requirements for becoming an animator? [online] Available at: https://www.quora.com/What-are-the-basic-requirements-for-becoming-an-animator [Accessed 17 Feb. 2025]. 

Reddit.com. (2020). Reddit - Dive into anything. [online] Available at: https://www.reddit.com/r/ArtistLounge/comments/ek026d/has_anyone_switched_from_pursuing_2d_art_to_3d/ [Accessed 17 Feb. 2025]. 

Reddit.com. (2025). Blocked. [online] Available at: https://www.reddit.com/r/animation/comments/1by8rid/i_think_3d_animation_is_overhated/. 

Quora. (2019). What percent of animators make good money and have successful careers? [online] Available at: https://www.quora.com/What-percent-of-animators-make-good-money-and-have-successful-careers [Accessed 17 Feb. 2025]. 

Quora. (2019). What is the market size for a 3D artist? And how many 3D artists are there? And their average earning? [online] Available at: https://www.quora.com/What-is-the-market-size-for-a-3D-artist-And-how-many-3D-artists-are-there-And-their-average-earning [Accessed 17 Feb. 2025]. 

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A statement that delineates plans for the interview (i.e. potential interviewee, and goal of the interview). 

I am looking forward to interviewing a professional artist or a lecturer that has worked in a studio and knows the requirements and environment to be an animator nowadays. Because in every couple of years it changes and how further did change for being 2D and a 3D animator and an artist.  My goal is to provide the questions and understand that as a 2D animator and artist my skills are eligible enough to work together with a 3D animator or in an actual studio or I have to be a freelancer.  

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

What’s your opinion for Leo’s reaction to finding out the mc was immortal as well- not necessarily a vampire, maybe they’re some other type of supernatural. I’m really curious because Leo seems like he’s mainly in love with the mc bec they are human.

Hi lovely!!! Always wonderful to see you, hope you’re well! 💛💛💛💛💛

Tbh I think my opinion remains the same about something like this? I'm going to link to an ask I wrote up a while ago, only because it's v pertinent to the subject matter and good background for what I’m going to expand on here.

That being said, I'm happy to kind of tl;dr/expand on what I talked about there. Basically I had the feeling that Leonardo choosing MC as a lover was more circumstantial--regarding the state of his life in the moment, regarding his general feelings about vampires and vampire society, and regarding his unresolved trauma as a young kid.

I guess my answer to that question--and forgive me if it seems like a cop out--is that it really depends, I feel? I think his attraction has a lot more to do with the kind of person somebody is, their sensibility, more than it has to do with mortal vs immortal. If it was an immortal MC that showed ridiculous fortitude and self-control, measured patience and maturity, I really don’t see him not noticing that? I think he would be wary at first (assuming it’s all a front) but with time would likely feel a great deal of love if they were interested in a life together. If they were able to see and understand what he needs and answered those needs, I guess I just really doubt his ability to say no. It’s all he’s really looking for, and the fact that he hasn’t found it after so long really speaks to his frightened evasiveness and the rare nature of that kind of unshakeable strength.

I also think a lot of his hinging away from purebloods (true immortals, in other words) is that he 100% does not want his familia having any involvement in his meaningful relationships. Which might be why he shows more acceptance towards turned vampires, or potentially different supernatural beings.

But I also don’t like giving a vague answer without some kind of explanation as to how I got, to that conclusion, so a boatload of analysis follows below the content warning.

Spoilers for Leonardo’s route and a few mentions of JPN ver content:

I think he has less of an obsession with the idea of mortality, and more like a constant association of goodness and freedom and maturity with humanity. And while it's understandable, there are signs that--when he has the proper time and space to heal--his views seem to soften from those extremes. I mean his decision to live with Comte is pretty much his first step in that direction; it was him acknowledging for the first time that vampires aren't inherently loathsome or incapable of normal living. (On a revealing note, I think it says a lot that he agrees with MC that she is living in a “wolves’ den” but also feels the need to clarify the men are basically the domesticated equivalent. They don’t pose the same threat other vampires typically do to humans because of their lifestyle and sire.) Additionally, his tsun-like behavior towards Comte also seems to solidify this concept for me: Leonardo’s trying to come to terms with something he's sworn to reject since he was young, but also can't entirely deny that Comte is as chill and mature as purebloods come lmao

[There was also an event in the JPN ver–which seems to be approaching the ENG version rapidly, though only the first part is here right now–in which Leonardo fully offers to turn her. MC is essentially on her death bed, and Leonardo doesn’t want to lose her after so little time together; it’s MC that rejects the future as a vampire out of sheer principle. Even more noteworthy is that, when a reincarnation of MC is reunited with Leonardo in modern times, he is revealed to be exceptionally shaken by that loss. There are suggestions he can’t take losing her again, which could mean succumbing to the desire to bite her.]

Two things I feel are necessary to hit home:

The first being that, at least within the storyline so far, the most mature and human-like vampires we’ve seen are Leonardo and Comte. They seek to emulate the maturity they see reflected in the human beings they’ve known all their lives. Given how vampire society and their hierarchies work, I get the feeling humans are nothing more than amusing tools to them--a way to survive and creatures to exercise control over. There’s an objectification and delusion that comes with what I’ve seen, and I think it’s important in this discussion? If the vast majority of vampires behave this way (because I’m ngl, Leonardo and Comte don’t seem very keen on remaining in touch with other vampires all that much) then it only makes sense they prefer the company of humans who can at least share this sensibility of “been there, done that--stop hurting people bc you’re bored/repressed, grow up.”

One event story where this was exceedingly evident was actually Leonardo’s proposal story. If y’all remember, an old pal/acquaintance of Leonardo’s finds out he’s gunning for a human woman and basically goes “lmao not on my watch.” His name was Adam iirc, and he felt he had every liberty to try and pressure Leonardo into turning MC. Failing that, he insisted they should break up and not be together anymore. Now, on the one hand, it’s fair to say that he was looking out for Leonardo in a way–he didn’t want him to end up miserable and alone when she was gone. But at the same time I feel that Adam’s behavior is deeply revealing of vampire society as well lmao. He doesn’t really try to understand the situation, just immediately assumes it’s the only appropriate outcome. It does insinuate a lowkey cultural disdain for humanity: they are imperfect, they do not last or cannot have real value without preservation. If Adam was really Leonardo’s friend, wouldn’t he realize that Leonardo considers vampirism nothing more than a burden that he would wish on no one, much less his future wife? Additionally, wouldn’t he also keep in mind that Leonardo considers human beings beautiful just as they are? Since he fails these basic requirements to understand Leonardo, my impression is that he is influenced by the larger vampire culture to some extent. Furthermore, it underscores just how thoroughly Leonardo has been trained to keep his cards close to his chest for fear of ridicule/violent reprisal: no vampires know his true feelings on the matter because he would be vehemently rejected outright.

[One can also offer that maybe Adam wasn’t being malicious, maybe vampires find human women they fall in love with all the time and turn them (or any other permutation of companionship that occurs), so he doesn’t understand why Leonardo wouldn’t. But even then, to try to force them to break up if she doesn’t turn? A bit overkill imo but also revealing--Leonardo’s will is being ignored for the sake of upholding a kind of ill-founded superiority complex lmao]

While Leonardo does have a somewhat overbearing need to control the pacing of his relationship and who sacrifices what, I don’t think it’s wrong to be cautious--to want to think things through. I think it’s fair to be afraid that the person you’re with can’t handle what you’ve seen/known. But that also leads me to a core issue I have with MC: she doesn’t inspire much confidence that she can handle the life he’s lived, and that’s a problem of both incapacity and incompatibility. I have to wonder how he reacts when he’s with somebody at the same maturity level, or at the very least somebody with whom he can see her strength with time. When MC’s life was dying out he was desperate enough to accept biting her because he didn’t want to lose her–human or not. It’s MC that rejects this solution, which leads me to further believe that he just doesn’t care about the divide when it comes down to it; it has more to do with his difficulty with being vulnerable and fully trusting someone to care about him. (Assuming they also have the fortitude to stay hopeful and relatively strong over the course of a very long life.)

In line with that, the second thing I think it’s important to acknowledge is how deeply hurt Leonardo is as a result of his family treating him like a fool/black sheep. He outright says and heavily insinuates that his family would write her off as worthless, that they’d never accept her--that's his first thought:

Leonardo: “My familia would call you frail. I think you’re strong and beautiful. You do more with your time than we try to do with ours.”

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MC: “And those letters were from your familia?”

Leonardo: “Yeah. I don’t talk to them or see them anymore. We don’t agree...on a lot of things.”

[Brief intermission here. But lmao. Who does that sound like? If any of you guessed Isaac, that’s exactly what I’m alluding to. Isaac says in his own route smth along the lines of “Why bother trying to get through to people when no amount of talking does any good or gets you any closer to being understood?” Which also explains the way they get along to uncanny degrees: they find comfort in making things/researching because it means being able to avoid the distress that comes with being blatantly misunderstood by others. Their pain simply comes in different dimensions; for Leo it’s about loss and hiding who he is out of fear of rejection, for Isaac it’s about betrayal and people turning on him--ultimately abandonment for both. But I digress, back to the main argument.]

Leonardo: “Once they discovered my location, they began hounding me with letters again. They don’t want me to be with just anyone...They want more purebloods. I’m no more than one half of an equation for them.”

There is a clear implication that his desire to choose somebody that truly makes him happy means jack shit to them. They keep talking over him and trying to wear him down to force him into what they want. It’s no wonder--imo--that he has such a hard time just saying what he wants in his life, to feel like he has the freedom to wish and pursue anything freely. It’s no wonder he just expects MC to spit on everything that’s important to him. It appears as though only other human beings in general and Comte have ever come close to understanding him.

At some point MC realizes that his insistence on being compagni provvisori was originally just another act of sacrifice, and that he was fine with giving up his time and a little privacy if it meant she would be safe. The thing she doesn’t seem to realize in the course of this--and he struggles to say it until later on--is that it stopped being blind generosity. He really did start to fall in love with her, and that’s the whole reason things became even more messy; because he didn’t anticipate not being able to let go on top of the vulnerability. And it’s a big part of why he’s hesitating to speak. He feels he has no right to those feelings, and that he’s imposing on her--not that he’ll be welcome.

And when she did finally admit those feelings were welcome, it was compounded by the parroted views of his family and larger vampire society as a whole. Saying that she herself wasn’t enough, that she had to become a vampire to make him happy. Imo that sounds very potentially retraumatizing given his experiences (people trying to force him into marriages with other vampires who didn’t remotely understand or care about him because it was “the right way of things”). It’s no wonder he freaks out and does something incredibly stupid and insensitive–which is pretty insanely ooc for him.

Leonardo: “...It shocked them. Quieted them down a bit. Hard to get peace when your familia is immortal. Grazie, cara mia.”

Leonardo: “You’re strong, and you’re kind. So probably you won’t cry while I’m here to see it. But when I’m not looking, you’ll cry. If I had done that to you (bitten her, in other words), you’d still be crying when I wasn’t watching... Maybe it’s selfish of me, after what I did, but I just wanted to make you happy. You always look pretty, cara mia, but your smile takes my breath away...It’s not your destiny to love someone who will only make you cry.”

This man literally cannot handle anyone deeply sad or in despair. He’s always going to try to cheer people up and care about them, but general tragedy/emotional discord affects him very powerfully--and it’s likely a reflection of what I’ve mentioned before. He can’t bear to see people feeling helpless or miserable because he’s just been there too many times to be able to cope. He wants to help and heal (even if he’s suffering from prolonged compassion fatigue), but he knows that his powers are limited--even if he is a pureblood.

And the thing is? While it’s misguided to believe she would cry alone when it comes to the context of healthy romantic love (bc the idea would be that you lean on each other when something upsetting happens) he has zero reference point. He was not born as a result of authentic love (his parents never married, he was the result of a procreative arrangement), his family talks over every wish and belief he has and they still claim it’s done out of love/honest concern for him. One can only imagine the serpentine and obnoxious lengths to which his family has deceived or tried to force him into reconnecting with them. Every person that ever did know him/care about him in a real way is gone. Love, for him, has only been a series of losses that left his heart hollowed out; I don’t really blame him for expecting further disappointment and isolation and exhaustion. 

He’s also not wrong in the sense that he partially saw MC do what he outlined, and it’s a big part about what he loves about her. When she was feeling alone and lost–powerless–all she did was shrug and move forward. That doesn’t make it hurt any less, but focusing on what you can do instead of what you can’t do is healthier. And they both have the tendency to hide when they’re in pain or feeling lost, all because they don’t want to trouble anyone. Remember that when he says this, it’s a reflection of himself too: because even if he was heartbroken beyond measure, all he would do is hide it every second; he would never expect anyone to see right through him or care.

I mean I tend think of that one post I saw that talked about how people often see themselves as a social burden when most of their life has just been a series of neglect and loss. They don’t really have a concept of “you’re not heavy because I want to stay with you. It’s my choice to care about you.” How do you feel worthwhile an existence when four hundred years later your family still won’t treat you with basic dignity. The men in the mansion also all look to him for guidance and soothing because of the kind of person he is–he’s either silent in the periphery or helping. He never betrays so much as an inkling of insecurity or distress. 

I mean the whole reason Leonardo comes to the mansion is because he has absolutely no issue helping Comte in a pivotal time of need without seeking much of anything in return. Remember that Comte explains how Leonardo came to the mansion in response to Comte’s distress about the future. This makes sense considering Comte was rapidly trying to stop Vlad by beating him to the punch, and had only enough time to plan the basics. He had no certainty things would work out, much less that his boys would thrive. But Comte, unlike the boys, has become acutely aware of how much Leonardo is hiding his fatigue and despair in the course of being helped. As such, he wants to return the favor--and tries to be a good friend to him as much as he can (handles his insane familia, keeps things light and silly time between them, takes him seriously as a person, doesn’t pry beyond what’s fair.)

[I also think of that psychology concept of “the good enough mother.” It’s not always about being perfect every second of your life. It’s about paying attention and acting where it really counts. I feel like people who grow up under an enormous burden of neglect or parental/mentor abuse have a hard time coming to terms with the idea. This notion that just trying is enough for a lot of people, that showing them they’re not alone is enough to make  difficult memories bearable. Because it’s the oppressive silence and apathy that tends to kills people, imo--not people who mean well. But Leonardo doesn’t really understand any kind of reciprocal or non-self-emptying model because the concept is beyond him. He has no experience with it beyond Comte and a select few humans he’s befriended.]

Let’s continue on this point of MC crying where he can’t see her, shall we? The reason this scares him so much is not because he doesn’t care, or doesn’t want to make the effort. It’s precisely that he cares to the point of madness. It’s that he is legitimately convinced nothing he has to say, nothing that he can do, no part of him is enough to ease what she will have to trade away to stay with him. The core issue is not one of disregard or objectification, I find it to be more about his belief that he just isn’t enough. He doesn’t trust that anyone can love him to the point where just the sight of him or time with him can heal. And while there is a foolishness to this belief, it’s understandable when you consider where he’s coming from. You can call it selfishness, but it just feels involuntary--he has a lot of fear when it comes to love.

I mean Comte even says it himself? His words here always strike me: “I want you to understand, it’s because he cherishes you just as you are--more than he cares about his future or his well-being.”

Comte is openly identifying the way that Leonardo has a tendency to give more than is healthy. That Leonardo isn’t hesitating because his feelings are lacking, he’s doing it because he knows it’s going to hurt like a bitch trying to love her and never ask beyond what feels reasonable. (Spoilers: no request is reasonable. That’s the problem here. He’s convinced he deserves nothing.) Therefore turning her into a vampire to stay with him is--consequently, to Leonardo--out of the question. This is the literal hingepoint at which Comte and Leonardo divide; Comte simply tells MC he’ll take full responsibility for asking so much of her. He intends to make her happy with every single resource and skill he has at his disposal. Even if he doubts his ability or fears losing her to vampire rhetoric madness, he’d rather try than live with the regret and immediate loss. Leonardo is more resistant because of his dour outlook, that her fear of immortality is never going to be something that either of them can overcome. And/or he’s likely afraid she’s only going to regret being together after so long, and might succumb to the ridiculous sort of power/greed complexes vampires seem so attracted to by nature.

I think Leonardo is still coming to terms with the idea that he isn't alone in the world in a lot of ways, and I think he's also coming to terms with the idea that immortality does not equate to evil. Sure, human beings on average are probably more open to flexible modes of thinking and living compared to vampires--their maturity is in some ways guaranteed due to the instances they're forced to adapt to survive. However, just one look at the ruling class and oligarchies of all kinds (even just stubborn human beings) reveals how they are not immune to the same sort of megalomania, arrogance, and thoughtless violence purebloods/vampires are capable of.

So I guess I hesitate when it comes to the thought that he only loves her because she's human. If anything, I think he loves her for the fact that she's very rooted in reality--not quite so bound by the extremes that trouble him. It's one of the many reasons I believe Leonardo needs a lot of maturity and patience; the ability to differentiate between his panicked/overwhelmed/hurt reactions versus his calm is a skill in and of itself considering his capacity for concealment. To say nothing of getting him to slow down when this happens, too.

I suppose I think about it in a way that’s similar to how Napoleon’s main story narrative is framed. While Leonardo’s route doesn’t focus on the grandeur of being a former emperor, there is a clear insinuation here that he also craves normalcy? Just a little life, with a person he loves dearly, where he can rest and be himself for once. I think because he gives off such an appearance of steadiness, people fail to see that he is barely holding on--not to mention the kind of experiences he’s been deprived of (the exact security and understanding he so expertly emulates).

Closer to your question, it’s worth mentioning that Leonardo’s life goal for a while was the creation of an immortal human being--in that he fully recognized human beings could not offer what he needed as they were.

He loves humans because of their adaptability, their frequent desire to keep seeking out hope and making the best of the broken pieces they have. But then again, it has more to do with the nature of how frequently that sensibility occurs in humans vs vampires (and immortality in general): mortality does demand some level of necessity to change and grow. Which is one of the largest trauma points for him; the vampires around him just refused to grow up, always demanding at him like children and obsessed with their power complexes.

Thing is I also don't know enough about vampire society to know how correct this perceived ratio is. However, given Comte's similar avoidance of other vampires and general inability to live with them (he and Vlad were literal childhood best friends and Comte can't stand him anymore lmao) I think Leonardo may have more validity here than people give him credit for. Which begs the question--why did he quit trying to make a human immortal? What was it that stopped him? Was it the horror of what needed to be done to achieve it? Or would a potential companion start to fall more in love with the idea of immortality than they do with life itself/him? I think it’s a worthwhile question to ask, given the disdain he seems to aim at Shakespeare in particular--once human, but now emulates all of the violence and insatiability marked by vampirism.

This is where the transition from human to vampire/immortal contains another hingepoint: is Leonardo so incapable of finding a middle ground because he feels like any choice he makes will be a wrong one? Marry a human, deprive them of a normal love where they can grow old together. Marry a human and turn them, what if they are reborn with immortal wounds/psychological harm? What if time proves they get bored of him or hateful, what if they begin to act like the predatory purebloods he hates so much? Marry a pureblood/immortal, and be hounded by his family for heirs--risk being with somebody who will never love him or their children, and only inspire more misery in the world.

Does it make sense how this can really start to become an anxious downspiral for someone like him? How the personal insecurity and life history comes together to just compound stress endlessly?

That's the thing that's important here, I think. Leonardo just needs somebody who is open-minded, firm, and not easily deceived. If one takes a look at Leonardo's main story route, the whole reason everything goes to shit so disastrously is because MC stops listening at a critical point. Granted Leonardo could have been more forthcoming for sure, but when she started assuming Shakespeare was right instead of seeing how Leonardo was feeling/reacting, she responded in ways Leonardo wasn't prepared for. He never wanted to shake her faith or insinuate whatever she is is not good enough for him, and tbh I think Leonardo downspiraled because it was just the same thing all over again. What he is--a vampire and immortal--keeps ruining everything he wants with his life. 

[life-rewritten]

THARNTYPE 7 YEARS: LOVE VS MISREADINGS AND INTERNAL STRIFES

So we are finally in episode 3 of TharnType 7 Years, and if it isn't apparent with my constant ramblings about this show, I am in love, like excited, obsessed, and incredibly happy in love. I know a lot of people are not like me, (it's always this way with this show) but the way the writer has left important character information, subtext and back-shadows in this plot has already made me hooked. The first thing I want to address is the couples in this show because I feel like people think the side couples are a waste of camera time and have no significance or depth, but this is one of the shows this year, where there is actual depth, plot and dynamics for the side couples. None of them is useless in fact; actually, if they don't have a plot, they're symbols/plot devices for the actual story. So stop seeing them as fan service, actually understand their characters, their flaws, their mindsets and see that we might have other couples in this show that are just as precious (with their own love story) as Tharn and Type. Or if you're one of those people who refuse to stop being closeminded about this show, then skip past this post.  But if you do love this show as much as I do, and want to know about what the story is showing; Let's begin.

First thing first is to look at the subtext, the patterns and what we could understand from episode 1-3 so far with TharnType 7 Years. The plot is all about all these couples having internal conflicts, sometimes psychological/ mental, which results in mindsets nurtured from their past experiences that have them become so flawed and stunted from growth. We've seen this same dynamic in season 1 with our couples, including Tharn and Type. 

With Tharn and Type the series, Mame uses love (the presence of it, the introduction to it and the feelings from it) to force our characters to learn from their mistakes, grow and change, and to reach self-acceptance and healing finally. Perhaps it's not always realistic (sometimes therapy is still needed, sometimes they take things too far, and sometimes the message isn't fully explored/translated) but its what I love about this show since season 1. The focus is on love, how incredible it can be for these characters and how it transforms them to their best version of themselves. In season 2 we have that with all these couples, they all have some kind of internal strife that is preventing them from growing,  And it's through love that they change.  Let me first analyse the couples, so you get what I mean; 

Misreading/Miscommunication/Misunderstanding in TharnType in 7 years

'How do past experiences shape your mindset, choices, and personal development and how does it affect your relationship with the love of your life.'

TharnType

Misreading because of internal scars

In previous season Tharn and Type has a fun time, getting together, this is me being sarcastic. In reality, these two struggled so much to cross that line, one because of Type's internal struggle with his past  assault making him ridiculously homophobic, and two because of everyone connected to Tharn's own history that contributed to his own internal scars at the end. Luckily our couple survived it all and actually chose to love each other properly. Except these scars aren't fully healed/gone, they still have affected our couple's ideologies, mindsets and actions, especially when it's time again to cross another line: Marriage. Tharn and Type are entering another conflict in their relationship despite their love for each other because of their internal scars. They're both for each other, 100% and they both concede and need each other, but their struggles make them incompatible despite the fact that they're actually trying to be selfless and caring for the other. Because of his past scars affecting how he sees publicity in relationships, Type doesn't want them to be exposed to the world or get married, because of his own internal strife of being abandoned Tharn wants them to prove to each other they won't be separated and needs them to get married for a peaceful mental state. 

Separately selfless and caring: Tharn is sacrificial and a pushover but we can see it's building up this episode and tearing him down, in fact, it was so depressing for him because he had to see Tong propose to his long term lover who by the way her speech was necessary because it showed what was on Tharn's mind. She says she's okay with being Tong's number 3 because she has known from the start who he was and she is willing to be selfless for him. In Tharn's mind, this is what Type should be saying, he should know who Tharn is by now and why he wants marriage, but also he should give in and let them get married because there's no problem to him with it. So that's another couple showing their love to everyone whilst Tharn has been in a relationship with Type for longer and is just not getting that. Still, he concedes this episode he pushes it down in front of Type, and secretly still hopes to get married a different time. But this is misreading Type because Type still wouldn't accept that proposal and it will cause a blow-up. 

The ring, the piano (playing their song) and the roses he was holding (passionate love) all symbolise Tharn's strife, he has everything ready, and was the one who played the song, held the flower, and bought the ring but he didn't have Type there. Type was avoiding going because he didn't want to bring back what happened in episode 1, being forced to again talk about marriage, (not selfishly, he's doing it, so they don't fight about it). Still, his absence also represented his misreading of Tharn's feelings.

In episode 3, we do see Type in denial, he is starting to realise that marriage could be a possible thing, and he knows Tharn wants it the most, (its what he wished for, for his anniversary in episode 1 for them to be together forever, marriage is proof of that promise)  he's frightened about hurting Tharn because he can see it is killing him. However, still, he can't get over his blockages and mindset, which is understandable. 

So he needs clues and evidence to start seeing Tharns perspective finally: the girl, Techno, his parents, Fiat.

 But we can see how Type is changing; he takes in Fiat because he wants to help someone like his past self feel understood. He feels inclined to help him not just because of work, but he kind of like takes him in as a young brother and nurtures him because he probably needed someone like that when he was younger. 

Hence this is why Fiat isn't meant to be seen as a devil in this show, but like Type, in season 1 he's meant to be misguided, stupid, irrational, and grow. Fiat takes the role of Type from season 1 (despite in his love story is more like Tharn will explain later), he'll do things and say things automatically. He'll cause issues, but if you notice  Leo (who probably is going to be in Tharns position in season 1 longing for him and being hurt because he's too late but also can be like Type in his own love story) is his calming influence. But Fiat will grow after his mistakes and love (losing Leo) will make him learn and grow from his mindset. Fiat is not just an object/boring second lead that just likes the main character, his involvement with the main story is going to cause growth for our couple but also lead him to his own plot with his own love story that's just as messy, angsty and romantic as Tharn Type in season 1. And you know what I can't wait to see it unfold. 

Fiat and Leo:

 Misreading because of reputation and protection

These two are so annoying, mostly because they're in the same position as TharnType in season 1 where they have perceived obstacles preventing them from the crossing the line even though they're in love.

We're introduced to Leo in episode 3 who definitely has feelings for Fiat. There are so many clues to the fact that he's automatically in love and romantically cares for Fiat. 

1.He clearly longs for his touch: they both keep glancing and looking wishfully at each other's lips each time they come face to face, it's there because they want to kiss each other, they're pulled to each other in that way

2. He drops everything for Fiat's safety, protection and needs. He will do anything; he even is seen this way by Fiat's 'friends' as the person who is the most protective and possessive over Fiat

3. He's jealous about not knowing about Fiat's state, he wants to be needed and trusted by Fiat above all. And he enjoys when Fiat is submissive and gentler to him. 

So why is he so adamant about keeping them as friends?

Fiat's reputation: 

Fiat reminds me of Stud (another messy, spoilt, selfish character who did so because of neglect) from another BL show Friendzone, he's flirty, and he sleeps around whenever Leo isn't around, he's a bit unstable without Leo by his side, rude, makes tantrums like a child who wants attention. When you look at it this way though, he's a child suffering from neglect, although he's rich, so he gets everything he wants he doesn't actually feel adequately loved;

He ran away from home when he was young because of a lack of attentive parents; he did this to get attention, and it's because he felt overlooked and not listened to. We see that he already acts impulsively whenever he feels slighted; this is important for his character.

.He says so sadly in the show to his date in episode 3: This was another exposition to his character's mindset; he feels misunderstood, unloved and not taken care of properly by everyone, including his so-called friends who also just see him as a child, and spoilt. He's felt always never seen. He says this after he realizes that Leo may be possibly happy without him in Italy. He was feeling lonely, irritated and bored with Leo there, but because he cared about Leo's happiness (Leo apparently said the camp was important to him), he didn't want to bother him. If Fiat were so manipulative and selfish and just saw Leo as a tool for emotional baggage he would have texted but no he conceded for Leo's wellbeing. 

His dependency on Leo: When he ran away from home when young it was Leo he went to. It's because Leo has always been his safe space, the only person apart from Type who shows Fiat in this episode that he understands why he's being so upset about the basketball thing, he protects and delivers care to Fiat. 

So why does Fiat feel neglected by Leo: because he's hurting from Leo's rejection/adamant denial that they are nothing. Fiat clearly has feelings for Leo (Stud did for Earth and also felt frustrated that he refused to take him seriously). Still, he's kind of been forced to sacrifice those feelings because he wants to keep Leo by his side. But it still 'breaks' him to do so: whenever he hurts he says stupid things, acts prideful and tries to seem spoilt hence how he spoke to Leo in this episode, but then he concedes. 

I think he's like Tharn when it comes to Leo a little bit, he's like Tharn was in season 1 when he was chasing after Type, but deciding to keep it unofficial whilst it breaks him inside and makes him even more distant that he's being overlooked.  One because like Tharn he wants to keep Leo by his side and do what he wants, so they don't fight, (sacrificial, he shows he cares a lot about Leo he's not selfish). Two because he also feels neglected by Leo for not accepting or taking his feelings seriously (hence being misunderstood).  

For his ego and self-defence mechanism,  he embraces his spoilt persona. You can tell that he only does it whenever he's hurt, scared, or his ego is failing, for example, with the basketball scene; leg hurting and throwing the ball in a fury in episode 3. 

Fiat is not selfish or manipulative; he's just spoilt. He's more like Tharn in season 1 than Type honestly. Tharn is also sometimes selfish, manipulative and stubborn when it came to Type. Tharn is just as rich as Fiat and was used to getting what he wanted. So he also threw tantrums when things didn't go his way, and he guilted Type always into conceding.  Type didn't always fall for it and was more stubborn and headstrong than Tharn.

 Leo is complicated, and if I'm seeing him like either Type or Tharn, these are his reasons for why he is not accepting his feelings.

Like Earth from Friendzone with Stud, he thinks Fiat's love is fickle; he believes he's spoilt, that he doesn't actually want him, he's just saying it as a joke. He thinks he's shameless and a nutcase, and he's just seeking attention. So even if he has feelings, he doesn't want to accept them because of this.

Because he is like Type and has some kind of internalised homophobia, forcing him to not think about Fiats feelings, they are raised in an interesting environment: status, money, reputation. Probably he, himself does not believe he could be gay and have feelings, so he sees everything he does with Fiat as friends, but he's clearly in denial about it, Just like how many times Type was in denial about what Tharn was to him and kept on insisting he didn’t see them as anything more than s*x friends. But Type learnt the hard way of what he wants especially when San entered the picture in season 1.  Type is Leo’s San, he will now force him to learn how he feels and finally accept it. 

Like Type with Tharn this season, it's about the reputation of the family, he's the person who is the closest to Fiat, and they're family friends it'll ruin what they have, the reputation of the family if they're in a phobic environment. It would be stressful to deal with the fallout. He's refused to cross that line to protect Fiat, and him like Type is doing to Tharn this season.

He just doesn't want their friendship to be ruined, so he does long and want Fiat, but he's too scared to be hurt or their relationship to stop. This is the same reason why Fiat sadly concedes, they both are keeping it undefined for each other not really seeing that they both love each other. The more Leo rejects and hurts Fiat and makes Fiat think there's no chance for them; Fiat latches more to Type who is this symbol for all the love that he never received.

 Although Leo doesn't neglect Fiat that way, he does make him feel misunderstood, stuck, and his feelings are being ignored. It's what he says to Leo, "You came too late" essentially you accepted your feelings too late. Jealousy is what will now make Leo embrace himself and push for their relationship (same as Type in season 1) whilst jealousy of Fiat's involvement will drive Tharn and Type to cross the line and get married.

Champ and Khun

 Misreading because of lack of self-esteem

Champ and Khun, my babies. Champ is going to be hurting Khun without realising it. Champ is really bad at love mostly because of lack of self-esteem, he doesn't think he's worth loving for some reason, he also doesn't see any point to love, and he's automatically cut himself of that. The thing with Champ is that Khun is different, he knows this, and I think we're going to see him feel this later on. But I think Champ and Khun are definitely like King and Ram, like King Champ is insecure about what Khun thinks of him and so he will also know how he feels but push it down because he doesn't think he's good enough for Khun.

We know that he's seen as dumb and dim, he mistakenly messed his university year, and he's just starting his business, so he's a little insecure compared to his friends.

We see how he is when it comes to love in season 1, he doesn't understand why people want him, and he doesn't feel anything to others in any way shape or form. 

It's either that or he's just so dumb that he doesn't even register how he feels for Khun as love, there other characters like him; Haruta from Ossans Love and Tonhon from Tonhon Chonlatee. They keep on flirting and doing this automatically to their love interest, but he's not going register why it's different, and this will hurt Khun because Khun won't say it out loud. 

Khun also seems like he struggles with lack of self esteem, insecurity, he's quiet and nervous all the time, he's shy and unsure about how to say to Champ how he feels, and yeh he also struggles to say how he feels. He's tried now to spend time with Champ alone twice, and he's shown annoyance in a polite way to both Type and Techno for being there. He's had feelings for Champ for seven years probably when they stayed in the same dorm, but he's not been able to gather up the courage to say so. So he's also going to be misread by Champ that he also likes keeping it cool and platonic because he doesn't know how just to say it. (Like Ram from my engineer) But I think he will get angsty the more he gets closer and unsure about what they are, and will finally say it out loud. 

Cir and Phu: 

The antithesis/symbol

Cir and Phu represent a couple that gets each other and makes an effort to let the other know how they feel, hence they don't hide or shy away from how they feel, they are blissful, in their own world, and they are the antithesis of these couples. But they also represent what these couples could be if they finally embrace their issues and see each other, Tharn and Type can finally be out and exposed to people, Leo and Fiat can finally be possessive over each other and show romantic ownership. Champ and Khun can finally tell each other how they feel and be in a relationship. 

So yeah, the couples in this show are all, significant, exciting and vital to the plot. They're not wasting camera time, especially Leo and Fiat in episode 3, we needed to understand why Fiat becomes our villain. He's perfect for it; spoilt, stubborn, and refuses to give this fight up because he's tired of being neglected. And Type represents a chance to be seen I guess to him. Tharn and Type and Leo and Fiat are mirror characters, they all learn and grow from falling in love, it doesn't mean they won't be messy, they won't make mistakes, but they're really understandable unlike some other one dimensional characters in this genre. Please give this show a break, and stop focusing on, on the surface information, listen to what the characters are saying, what has been shown and mentioned about them and think about how it affects them. Like Techno, for example, he's going to be a helping hand to these couples, for Tharn and Type he'll help push them to marriage (this is why he sends in the group chat that Tharn is cheating despite the fact he knows he's gay, he's not stupid or problematic he's up to something because he has to help Tharn find a way to make Type concede and want to be possessive of him), he'll also be necessary to Champ and Khun, he's already clued into their relationship dynamic, so he'll let Champ know the truth. He's playing the same role he did in season 1 for Tharn and Type. All these characters are essential, and they all fit the plot and pacing correctly. Stop thinking they're not. Okay, I'm done with my rant; let's see what happens next in episode 4, Ciao. 

[themattress]

Holy Shit!

https://imgur.com/gallery/WKkli

https://imgur.com/gallery/j9OQylb

Beyond the proof that the guy who uploaded this is involved with Bad Robot that he provided at the end of his second post, these definitely seem legit because the first post was in 2018, before The Rise of Skywalker came out, yet the treatment contains some blatant concepts that ended up finding there way into that movie that I have a hard time believing anyone but J.J himself could have come up with (plus, the rest of the plot is very J.J-like, as I’ll get into.)

So these definitely seem to be the discarded Episode VIII and IX treatments. Thoughts?

- Luke’s reasons for coming to Ahch-To definitely seem more in line with TFA than in TLJ, seeing as if he wanted to just “go there to die” he wouldn’t have left a freaking map to the place behind, plus it seemed off that someone disillusioned with the Jedi ways would go to the site of the first Jedi Temple to begin with. His portrayal also matches what we saw at the end of TFA (seeming to be in mourning for Han), and fits the “kind but sad” description from the script. And far from cutting himself off from the Force, Luke has been influencing it from afar as part of his grand plan, explaining Rey’s vision when she touched his lightsaber.

- Luke has a wife and kids! Sadly for EU fans, the wife is not Mara Jade.

- It was Luke’s influence via the Force that explained the things Rey could do that fans deemed her a Mary Sue for, plus some other things that weren’t so routinely noted such as the remarkable coincidence that she and Finn just happened to run into Han and Chewie right after obtaining the Millennium Falcon. Not sure how well this would have gone down...

- Saccrum, Snoke’s home planet, is literally Exogol. Secret ancient Sith planet that is nigh impenetrable to all non-Sith, site of the final battle and (as we’ll soon learn) where Snoke is repeatedly cloned and where Palpatine is resurrected by Sith alchemists...it’s fucking Exogol.

- I recall concept art for Kylo Ren’s partly metallic face floating around.

- Dathan Naut seems cool, but she never really amounts to much.

- So it seems J.J Abrams and Lawrence Kasdan’s vision for the Sequel Trilogy always seemed to boil down to “All the generations of Jedi vs. all the generations of Sith reaching a climactic battle, with Skywalker vs. Palpatine at the heart of it, and the Palpatine who becomes a Skywalker as the key to victory.” That idea was always where they were going.

- Jedi/Sith Holocrons were always gonna be a thing, which is why Rebels worked them in.

- Live-action Ahsoka was also always an objective, it seems, and I bet the way they wrote her out in Rebels’ “Twilight of the Apprentice” was to potentially serve as a lead-in for her appearance in the Sequel Trilogy. But because that never came to pass, they brought her back toward the end of the series and set her on the new trajectory that she’s currently on. Honestly, I think that’s for the better, Ahsoka wouldn’t have really fit in the main film series.

- Not big on this Cfi-Xi character, she mainly seems to be here to “no homo” C-3PO. And her main role relating to the Sith Planet ended up played just fine by C-3PO in TROS anyway.

- BB-8 had the kind of fake-out death they ended up giving to Chewie.

- Wow, so Hux was supposed to die in Episode VIII and Phasma in Episode IX originally. Funny how that got totally flipped backward in the versions we actually ended up getting.

- OK, this “family time” that Rey’s getting is precious. It’s sad we didn’t get to see this.

- Hoo boy, “this is the bad ass Luke Skywalker we’ve been waiting for!” Really? Et tu, J.J and Kasdan? In light of the recent showing by Luke in The Mandalorian, I again question why this portrayal of the character is so widely beloved by fans when it has little to no basis in the OT.

- Rey vs. Kylo Ren in a raging ocean backdrop; here in Episode VIII rather than IX. Similarly, it’s a duel that Kylo clearly has in the bag, but a fluke in the Force allows Rey to survive, although I much prefer the fluke we got to the one this treatment proposes because....

- Goddamn it, J.J. You’re doing the time travel / time paradox shit again? Were Lost, Fringe and Star Trek not enough for you to explore that concept in? This is the biggest part of these treatment drafts that rubs me the wrong way, it’s just so needlessly convoluted and cliche.

- Also, yet another Mystery Box in Luke’s severed hand on Saccrum.

- No Jedi Leia in that flashback? Yeah, I can see why Kathleen Kennedy rejected this.

- Btw, Rian Johnson wasn’t the only one who was going to turn Luke into an asshole failure, it seems. Making this highly risky plan with Ben and not letting his parents know about it? Dick! 

- Snoke is the one who destroys Luke’s academy, not Kylo Ren. And he does so as he is dying; another clue-in that there’s more to Snoke than it seems given that he’s still around.

- Lando would have been in Episode IX anyway, albeit still running Cloud City.

- The idea for this Episode IX is that the Skywalkers are a Jedi dynasty that long predated Anakin (Shmi being a descendant of it), and the Palpatines were their Sith enemies. Sheev Palpatine also would have died his first death generations ago and was being constantly resurrected via clone bodies made on Saccrum ever since, so the one that Anakin killed wasn’t the original; Palpatine can’t be stopped unless Saccrum is destroyed. While not as convoluted as the time paradox shit, I appreciate the simpler route they ended up taking.

- J.J and Kasdan always wanted Rey’s father to be a defective Palpatine clone.

- There was never a planned origin for Snoke in these treatments; wherever he came from the bottom line was that Palpatine brought him onto his side by promising to share his key to immortality (constant cloned bodies made on Sacccrum) with him. Again, this ended up being simplified into Snoke just being a whole-sale creation of Palpatine’s from the very beginning.

- Since these are treatments, the “love” part of the dynamic between Rey and Kylo Ren is highly underdeveloped and would likely have been fleshed out in screenwriting. The end result, with the deprogramming vision of Rey and Darth Vader, sounds pretty effective though, but I think I much prefer the Leia death / vision of Han version that we ended up with.

- LOL, the “droid way of making love”. I want to see this idea repurposed someday.

- That’s an interesting twist on Alderaan, although it really doesn’t amount to anything given that the planet Leia grew up on and called home still got destroyed by the Death Star.

- “Magic blood”, another J.J-ism. Again, I much prefer the simpler version TROS gave us.

- The climax’s structure is basically the same as in TROS, with Rey (and others) heading to the Sith planet from Ahch-To and then Leia’s Resistance forces going there from their base, with Rey and Ben facing Palpatine. The biggest differences is that we also have Luke vs. Snoke and Finn vs. Phasma battles going on, in addition to a Jedi vs. Sith ground battle.

- Yeah, I don’t really care for how Phasma’s death is handled: making her hideously scarred and treating her sympathetically don’t sit right with me. Rian Johnson did it better, IMO.

- No red stormtroopers here, but there are red Tie Fighters.

- Ben still gives his life to save Rey, albeit in a less literal manner.

- Palpatine still wants Rey to ascend to the Sith throne and rule by his side. Also: “he loves the smell of burning hair, it reminds him of home”!? Wow, that’s dark in what it’s implying...

- OK, so while not a Jedi, Leia is the Big Damn Hero in the end. That makes sense.

- WTF? Rey straight-up kills Palpatine with Sith lightning!? Yeah, that definitely wasn’t ever gong to fly with Lucasfilm, since it totally contradicts ROTJ’s message! It was inevitable that we’d end up with the more correct “Rey deflects Palpatine’s own Sith lightning back at him”.

- “Rey Skywalker” is the end point for the story here as well, but it ending on Tatooine is so much more emotional than ending it on Alderaan Prime, a place that only just now exists.

My final impression is that we probably could have had the best version of the Sequel Trilogy possible IF the right corrections were made when adapting these treatments into real screenplays, such as axing the more convoluted and pointlessly fanservice-y elements and making different choices for a few of the characters (Rey, Kylo Ren, C-3PO, Phasma, etc...also something more substantial for Poe since they clearly had no idea what to do with him). However, it was also an impossibility for it to ever happen due to many different factors, the biggest of which being Carrie Fisher’s passing in 2016. So as it stands, I am still satisfied with the version we got and am especially happy that J.J returned for TROS to provide the end of the Skywalker Saga with some of his original (mercifully fine-tuned and simplified) ideas.

[waywardmasquerade]

is there any reason you dont make a dragon dice bag with the regular lesbian flag? I have never seen that femme flag before

Unfortunately the answer to that is very long. Apologies if I repeat myself or overexplain, events around the world have me rather frazzled.

To my knowledge, there is no regular lesbian flag. There have been multiple proposed lesbian flags, but in my research I’ve never found one that has broad community support.

There’s the purple labrys flag from the 70s or 80s (I think?), which apparently has historical issues and isn’t widely recognised today.

There’s the lipstick flag, which has much more recent issues related to it’s creator (transphobia, biphobia, racism) as well as not resonating with the butch & non femme parts of the community.

There have been multiple edits to the lipstick flag, first the lipstick kiss was removed, though I don’t know who by or the intention behind it. Then it was simplified to include more orange and brown.

Then it was simplified again to the five bar orange/pink flag.

All these edits have been called different things by different people.

There have also been a LOT of other proposed flags, including a “sapphic” lesbian flag (based on one of Sappho’s poems), which is interesting in itself because historical Sappho was thought to be bisexual. If you go hunting you’ll find dozens of proposed designs.

At the time I was researching and designing the lesbian pride Dragon Bagon, the lipstick flag and sapphic flag were the ones that showed up most in my research. I did not feel comfortable using the lipstick flag, and the sapphic flag was not recognised by the folks in my beta group. So I settled for modifying the first or or second iteration of the modified lipstick flag (there was no way I could fit all those slightly different shades in) and because I knew it didn’t resonate with many of the butch lesbians I had feedback from, I called it the “femme” lesbian Dragon Bagon, because I did not feel comfortable making a decision and putting a label on the entire lesbian community when it clearly didn’t fit a lot of people in it. I have since been keeping an eye out for a possible butch flag or symbol, there was support for a plaid Dragon Bagon, but plaid microfleece has not become available despite my searches. I’m hoping that will eventually change.

As it is, I am gathering feedback regarding the 5 bar flag, and while some of it has definitely been positive, some has also been negative. I also don’t feel comfortable just making a unilateral decision on behalf of the lesbian community when it does not yet seem like there is yet community consensus on a flag, though the 5 bar flag definitely seems to be steadily gaining popularity. I’ll have one person tell me that it definitely IS the “community flag”, while another tells me they don’t identify with it at all.

There are also another couple of factors:

I realise that folks who don’t do the job I do will not necessarily realise the level of work involved in prototyping and putting a design into a level of production that makes it affordable. Suffice it to say, there is a lot. So I can’t take changing established designs lightly. The Pride Dragon Bagons are already underpriced for the work that is involved in them. That was a conscious choice I made because I wanted to give something to a community I value. Making the price they’re at even remotely doable for me means we need to produce pride dragon bagons in batches, not one by one. It also means that I have to think carefully before making more of the designs that aren’t like to sell as well. Making new pride designs is not a low cost enterprise, but I want them to be there to at least say to as many of the less represented members of the LGBTQIA2+ community as possible: “I see you”, even if they never buy a Dragon from me, seeing how the photos make people happy is a boost. So I’m balancing the need for representation with the budget as well.

How well a design sells (and therefore funds us making more) is a combination of factors, for a start, it’s a matter of how many people there are within a given section of the wider LGBTQIA2+ community, and then what segment of that group has the disposable income to afford a handmade Dragon Bagon, plus what segment of that group wants to spend that much on a handmade Dragon Bagon. All that comes into play before we get to how pretty the design is, how well it matches the flag, how well I can reach that specific group, etc. Then there’s if there are multiple flags that segments of those groups identify with (e.g. Genderqueer vs Non Binary), and there’s also the matter of folks identifying with multiple flags, which usually means there’s one they want a Dragon for one more than others, which adjusts the numbers as well. And as cold and calculating as it might feel to me sometimes, I do have to keep an eye on the numbers if I want to be able to keep operating (and as a result, producing pride dragons) at all.

The next thing to consider is the availability of fabrics and colour matching. As it is right now, I only have access to colours that would possibly be an acceptable match for two or three of the colours in the 5 bar flag in your avatar. That may change in the future, and I’m always looking for new colours. I also need to consider that while a colour is available now, it may not be in three months time, which means if I want a reasonable supply I need to buy a lot in one go, which for a small business running out of my lounge, is not insignificant. So I need to be sure I can use the fabric before I buy it. While I don’t expect to profit hugely from the pride dragons, I do need to cover my costs and make something of a living for myself, and my helper deserves to be paid a living wage for their time and effort as well.

The last thing is that, despite putting more time and research into the lesbian pride design than any of the others, it has been the one that has received the least support both in terms of sales, and in terms of actual engagement and feedback on the design when I have called for it in the past. It’s also the community (or at least, the community that folks being unpleasant presented themselves as being from) that has directed the most aggression towards me. Even when I have clearly labelled the Lesbian Pride design in the lineup, I have received less-than-pleasant comments about “forgetting” lesbians or demands to know “where is the lesbian one”. Yet when I have called for feedback in the past, there was far less engagement than with many other groups. So it feels like a rock and a hard place for me, it got so hurtful that I actually stopped researching potential new pride designs for quite some time.  So when there’s been very little support in terms of feedback, engagement, and sales from this community, alongside some fairly unpleasant comments as well. I don’t know what else I can do, and it doesn’t help with inspiration and creativity. I realise that a few angry people who apparently don’t bother to read posts before lashing out do not represent the whole community, but it’s only been recently that there’s been an increase in useful feedback on this particular design as well.

Will I make a new lesbian pride dragon? Maybe. I can’t give a timeframe, I can’t say which flag it will follow, because I don’t know. I’m doing research as and when I can, and keeping an eye on a lot of different factors. That being said, IF I make a new one, I will be trying to prioritise rep for butch lesbians, since I have not been able to give them that so far.

All that being said, I am 100% willing to make custom custom Dragon Bagons for those who want them, and that can definitely include pride designs. They cost more, but I do try to keep the cost down as much as possible.

[clement1668]

Public Health Campaigns

Health Communication and Social Media – Covid-19

Rising the use of social networks is one of the most far-reaching effects of the COVID-19 pandemic. Apart from conventional newspapers, which are the primary generators of social networking in crisis situations, person identities have arisen sponsored by social networks, which have had a similar effect on more niche communication media. This is the premise of the study presented, which focuses on health connectivity and is based on a simulated ethnography approach using social indicators. The goal is to understand the relationship between the general public and digital media , in particular through interaction measurement. In this respect, a quantitative analysis has been carried out that explains this problem over a span of six months on three social networks: YouTube, Twitter and Instagram, with a population made up of specialist health media vs healthcare practitioners.  The results point to a new communications model that opens up a new space for agents whose content has a degree of engagement comparable to and even exceeding that of digital media specialized in health communication. The conclusions show that the crisis of the pandemic has accelerated the transformation of the communication sector, creating new challenges for the communication industry, media professionals, and higher education institutions related to market demands.

The Social Networks and Their Reach: The Fifth Power

Without a question, the study of the present realities of connectivity is concerned with the perception of any phenomena as a result of its effect on social networks. If the most common activity in the 20th century to locate information was to sit in front of a TV, purchase daily newspapers, or listen to radio newsletters in the 21st century, it is more common to type search words into an internet browser on any device — smartphone, mobile, computer. Social networks have become constant networking channels that link almost half of the world's people , making them more solid and in direct competition with the networking and journalism as players in the information-communication process.

Their influence and dissemination around the world have turned 'homo videns' into 'homo socialis,' and the importance of these events needs the attention of modern communication processes. The phenomenon impacts half of the world 's population. According to the We are Social Report, a total of 3.8 billion people are linked to social networks, with an annual average increase of 13 per cent from 2017, which means an average of 363 million new users of social networks each year. If the January 2020 study reported an improvement of 7 per cent in the use of the Internet in global terms relative to the previous year, i.e. 298 million new users, the rise of active users of social networks grew by 9.2 per cent compared to the previous year, which suggests that 321 million additional users connect on the networks.

Thus, if the 20th century was characterised by the great communication empires and news organisations that controlled the information world — Murdoch, Reuters, Havas, Associated Press, EFE — in the 21st century, the mastery of data falls to the major technology firms. The health crisis has brought to light the hegemony of those who have perfected the flow of knowledge across the major media networks, subdued the communications sector, overwhelmed by a saturation of knowledge, and expected a revolution in the advertising business model. As behemoths of big data and gatekeepers faced with an avalanche of false news that started to circulate on the internet thanks to COVID-19, great technology firms responded. Conscious of their ability to reach and effect, the seven most important corporations in the sector — Facebook , Google, Twitter , YouTube, Microsoft, LinkedIn, and Reddit — published a joint statement on 17 March 2020 in favour of a mutual commitment to eradicate misleading and deceptive knowledge and to endorse the content of health-related government channels and authorities around the world. In these seven giants, it is important to remember that Google owns LinkedIn among its various platforms, the YouTube network, and Microsoft acquired LinkedIn in 2016, so that the amount in concentration is currently limited to just five big corporations. 

The rapid growth of Web 2.0, which has been converted to 3.0 with the advent of artificial intelligence and big data, by the use of algorithms that optimise the media menu of consumers, contributes greatly not only to dramatically transforming the consumption of content in all fields and in all domains of expertise, and especially health-related information, but also to amplifying the abibiology. Its ability to attract viewers simply de-thrones the conventional media in the fight for viewers or in the sale of the written word. Although it is true that the simplicity with which information is conveyed in these contact spaces makes them the target of false news and hoaxes, it is no less true that their ability to access viewers has resulted in the emergence of skilled, specialist outlets whose function as information providers has been beneficial and genuine. Thanks to social networks, skilled staff from multiple sectors have had the ability to deliver vitally valuable knowledge to the population, in place of some other institutional agency or communication media, and in a more straightforward way. Here lies the importance of the present study, which analyses some of the key profiles of health communication since the COVID-19 pandemic, as far-reaching social trends and valid alternatives to the flow of information – communication since times of crisis.

Engagement and the Potential of Social Networks

In the context of the study of social networks , new related concepts have arisen that give philosophical support and abstract meaning to the phenomena, in order to clarify the number of users that the networks pull together around individual profiles. The exacerbated desire to seek information when confronted with a crisis situation produces an inconceivable anxiety for awareness, and this makes it easier to connect with health providers who have a presence through social networks. Commitment, as a semantic interpretation of the phenomena, means a massive follow-up of particular profiles and, from a psychological point of view, an immersive and co-creative experience as a reaction to a stimulus (in this case, the COVID-19 crisis) with respect to an entity, i.e. a profile that becomes a communication – information referent.

One of the most important emerging topics identified in the literature on social media is, without a doubt, interaction as a psychological incentive that results in the act of following. Its research takes us closer to the model of connectivity that comes from the online world. This model is particularly interesting in a situation that sees the inflexion point of a new contact domain in the exchange of producer-consumer and medium-audience positions.

The engagement research has been interpreted from a number of viewpoints as a multi-dimensional concept that describes various forms of commitments and has become particularly relevant with the spread of connexions across social networks. According to Barger and Labrecque, four separate degrees of participation can be formed in social networks, taking into account the level of involvement of the user: (1) the observer — content is consumed but there is no interaction or purpose to follow; (2) the follower — content is consumed and the following profile that produced it begins, with the first degree of interaction seen as the follow-up active user moves to a second level of participation in which not only does the user ingest content posted and follow the profile, but also regularly engages with likes, retweets / reposts and comments; and (4) advocate — this is a higher level of involvement in which, apart from following and engaging, content is generated and posted that supports the profile or company that is being followed. It is in the sense of the last two forms of interaction that the present analysis examines the study of audiences in social networks and the creation of metrics, with indices focused on the features of each social network being analysed.

One of the key findings confirmed by the study proposed is that the transformation of the media flow into digital and global operation, available to all actors, suggests that conventional connectivity is no longer unique and this has been illustrated more than ever by the health crisis brought on by COVID-19. The condition has been reflected in the key role of social networks as alternate or parallel spheres for the exploration of knowledge and the consumption of material, as previously discussed in other works. The evidence from this analysis supports this notion, leading us to believe that, considering the fact that the specialist contact channels analyzed were involved in social networks, with an average number of 121,252 tweets, the followers' attitude displayed an average similarity of 149 points below that reached by health professional profiles with half the number of tweets released. YouTube evidence also confirms this observation and pattern, but it is more prominent: relative to the number of videos posted by health-based contact channels, 20,483, with an average of four comments, the health professional profiles, amid the 72-fold decline in the number of videos released (281), earned an average of 300 comments.

References

Pérez-Escoda, A., Jiménez-Narros, C., Perlado-Lamo-de-Espinosa, M. and Pedrero-Esteban, L.M. (2020). Social Networks’ Engagement During the COVID-19 Pandemic in Spain: Health Media vs. Healthcare Professionals. International Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health, 17(14), p.5261. viewed 29 October 2020.

‌

[helluvascribe]

For His Entertainment

Art by 2p Alastor on Discord

One will soon find out that Alastor's no Radio Daddy nor lovey dovey Strawberry Pimp...

Alastor gets to rule all of Hell in an alternate universe, as a result of Charlie, Angel, and many others trusting him too easily. While everyone was busy with turf wars, sex schemes and working at the Hazbin Hotel to redeem sinners, no one seemed to fully catch onto the Radio Demon's hidden agenda until it was even too late for Lucifer.

Now with god-like power, Alastor alters Hell to his liking and plans to conquer Heaven, and even Earth.

But now he needs to entertain himself before his final conquest. He does what he does best; broadcasts his victory to an audience and lures listeners in...

...and this means you folks!

 Part 1: Let’s Sing!

 Denizens of Hell

Let’s burn it up

Yeah, check out ourselves

‘Cause you know you’re never fully dressed without a smile

 Your powers may be mighty, forte

Your clothes crocodile

But then you’re never fully dressed without a smile

 But if we stand for nothing, we’ll fall for it all

We got all we need, thanks to him

You’re never fully dressed without a smile

And if we stand for our sins, we can have it all

‘Cause if it’s real, our acts will never die

You’re never fully dressed without a smile

You’re never fully dressed without a smile

You’re never fully dressed without a smile

 Radio not

Give it all we’ve got

Yeah you can’t deny

Alastor is never fully dressed without a smile

Don’t run away and then betray

He’ll eat you alive

But then you’re never fully dressed without

   But if we stand for nothing, we’ll fall for it all

We got all we need, thanks to him

You’re never fully dressed without a smile

And if we stand for our sins, we can have it all

‘Cause if it’s real, our acts will never die

You’re never fully dressed without a smile

You’re never fully dressed without a smile

You’re never fully dressed without a smile

 Now look at us

We turn it up

We set them on fire

‘Cause you know you’re never fully dressed without a smile

We shout it out

We’re slaying now

We’re living the life

But then we’re never fully dressed without

 But if we stand for nothing, we’ll fall for it all

We got all we need, thanks to him

You’re never fully dressed without a smile

And if we stand for our sins, we can have it all

‘Cause if it’s real, our acts will never die

You’re never fully dressed without a smile

You’re never fully dressed without a smile

You’re never fully dressed without a smile

Part 2: What the Hell?

 Hell was a place that defied typical expectations. For one, it wasn’t the fire and brimstone torture center of the universe. People would expect there to be all sorts of horrors awaiting in the bowels of the Earth: windstorms, tar pits, rolling boulders, fiery lakes, and frozen wastelands with Satan himself trapped inside.

 Alas, it was not so. For in this Hell lay a run-down city that looked typical of a shady section of a metropolis found on Earth. It was called Pentagram City, as it was right underneath a glowing dark pink pentagram that remained stationary in the crimson sky above. The city was filled with strip clubs, drug stores, black markets in alleyways, and several sections of town that were destroyed due to turf wars. The city would look even worse when dark Archangels from Heaven would arrive once a year to purge the city of sinners at random. But no one seemed to care much about the loss of life. They mostly focused on their own greed and desires.

 Down below were demons of all shapes and sizes mulling about their everyday afterlives.

 No, not the typical red skinned horned devils you would expect to dwell there.

 These demons ranged from dragons, to hellhounds, imps, lizards, and all sorts of animal-like creatures. Some even looked remotely human. Whether they were cyclops, clowns, spiders, or human-like with extra arms, they all generally walked on two feet. Some even had the heads of different objects like TVs and weapons. They could turn into more powerful versions of themselves: their full demon forms.

 The majority of these demons were sinners who had died previously as humans and were sent to Hell as punishment. Some, like the hellhounds, imps, and Hell’s own princess were born there.

 Additionally, there was an elite group of demons who possessed powers higher than average. They often ruled their own territories, had underlings at their beck and call, and instilled fear into the weaker denizens. They were called overlords. The overlords had also been human in their past lives. The overlords’ abilities were second only to the powerful royal family of Hell: Lucifer, Lilith and their daughter Charlie.

  However, there was one overlord who was feared above all the others. From the moment he stepped into Hell, he was granted supernatural Eldritch powers on an unimaginably high scale. Teleportation, shadow manipulation, creating portals and conjuring fire were only some of the very many powers he possessed. Though polite, charming, and flamboyant at first glance, he was a master of manipulation, deceit, sorcery, and trickery.

 One of his unique skills was radio broadcasting. Seemingly in less than a day, he had mercilessly slaughtered dozens of citizens, toppled powerful overlords, and claimed territories of his own. Using his microphone staff, he would broadcast his victories, so others would know of his influence.

 Hence he was known as Alastor, the Radio Demon.

 Alastor’s appearance also made him stand out…in a very disturbing way. His attire was reminiscent of the early 1900s. His outfit consisted of a pinstriped suit, and dress coat, vermillion red in color. Thin light red stripes trailed vertically down his red dress coat. His pants were a dark wine color and his shoes were black, with red deer prints on the soles. Indeed, he had several deer features, from his black and red deer tail, to large furry tufts shaped like deer ears and even two small pitch black antlers growing from his head. His hair was mostly red with the black ends reaching slightly past his chin and on top of his tufts. Black gloves with red dots over the knuckles covered his four-fingered claws that served as his hands. A black bow tie with a red center rested over his red undershirt, which displayed a black upside down cross design.

 Perhaps his creepiest feature was his face. His chin was thin and pointed, his skin a pale gray color. An unnaturally wide sinister smile of sharp yellow teeth that fit together was nearly always present on his face. Large hypnotizing red eyes took up much of his face. A monocle rested under his right eye, connected by a thin chain.

 Besides Hell not being the typical epitome of suffering, it was also not the way it was supposed to be. Though life was chaotic in the past, the city had functioned at a typical pace.

 Not too long ago, the blonde, white-faced Princess Charlie decided to propose an idea that was downright ridiculous and outlandish to everyone else. She created the Happy Hotel as a place where sinners could learn how to be better people and hopefully, complete their own unique journeys toward redemption. Though Charlie was mocked and ridiculed, she wasn’t going to give up. A gray moth-like demon named Vaggie was her girlfriend and tough with a deadly spear. Angel Dust, a white porn-loving spider demon had been involved with drugs, turf wars, and was Hell’s number one porn star. Despite his sins, he had volunteered to help Charlie with her hotel and became her first client.

 Alastor had arrived to the hotel as well, and offered to help Charlie run her hotel so he could be entertained for a while. He summoned other demons for assistance: a little hyperactive neat-freak cyclops named Niffty, and a grumpy gambling cat named Husk who always had a bottle of alcohol in his paws. Charlie was immediately enraptured with Alastor, even dancing and singing with him whenever the occasion arose. Vaggie, of course, was suspicious of him, even more so when he appeared to hinder Vaggie and Charlie’s relationship.

 Charlie’s hope was that demons would be redeemed enough to be eligible to go to Heaven. This way, there would be less demons lost to the annual slaughter by the Archangels. Soon, she had hoped, there would only be happiness and a second chance given to everyone. In her own words and in her song, “Inside of every demon is a rainbow.” Lilith was often too busy with modeling and concerts to pay much attention to Charlie, but supported her the best she could. For obvious reasons, her father had disapproved of her idea. Having been banished from Heaven for rebelling against God, Lucifer gained his position by implementing fear and using his destructive powers. The Archangels spared the royal family in return for Lucifer letting them kill off the “common scum folk.” If demons were to leave, it could lead to a war between Heaven and Hell if the circumstances did not go well.

 Indeed, things had gone from bad to worse. It started off with Alastor causing mischief barely noticed by anyone, save for Vaggie and Husk. He had changed the hotel name to the Hazbin Hotel. It was the little things he did: igniting a brawl here, encourage a bad rating there, all while keeping up appearances and encouraging the princess to work harder toward her goal.

 It was speculated by many that Alastor actually wanted Charlie to succeed. The pretty blonde demon/angel hybrid had caught his eye when he first saw her on TV. Although he wasn’t interested in sex or romance, he did enjoy fun affectionate friendships…provided they benefited him and his goals. In fact, he was friends with many individuals, particularly Charlie, Rosie, Mimzy, Husk, and Niffty.

 After many months of hard work, battles with evil overlords, parental brawls, and drama, many demons had been successfully rehabilitated, including Vaggie, Angel Dust and his twin sister, Molly. They had defeated/humiliated the maniac snake villain Sir Pentious, outsmarted the evil fish scientist Baxter, bested the evil Vs, (Valentino, Vox, and Velvet), along with saving themselves from more angels. Angel, Molly, Crymini, and Cherri Bomb had been active fighters when they weren’t hooked on meth or doing pole dancing for the lustful crowds. Husk slowly got out of his dark shell, made amends with his past and slowly started to warm up to everyone. Niffty got delusional in her fantasies of romance, men and power as she cooked, sewed, and cleaned. Whether she was redeemed and remained cute or turned psychotic…no one really knows. Charlie and the others were ready to reach the golden heavenly gates and change their afterlives…

 Unfortunately, the angels in Heaven weren’t so keen to let any sinners enter Heaven so easily. They told Molly that she could enter as she wasn’t a demon, and Vaggie could enter if she took on penance and renounced her sins. Elite and entitled, the angels shooed Charlie, Niffty, Husk, Alastor, Angel and several others away, even sending some Archangels after them. Charlie and Lucifer blasted the angels back with their powers, saving the demon group and escaping back to Hell. But her actions caused inner mental concerns for her parents, God and the angels. God suspected that Charlie and Lucifer were trying to upstage Heaven’s duties and traditions. No matter what, Hell’s population would continue to grow, and surely the angels would be outnumbered if a war were to begin.

   Charlie’s parents were not happy that Charlie had broken up with Seviathan Von Eldritch (like Leviathan the sea monster), Helsa’s brother and member of a wealthy rival family. She and Helsa were already fierce rivals, both families competing to be the most influential in Hell. In addition, they were getting tired of Charlie’s pursuit and wanted her to conform to Hell’s standards. Being a fearsome leader was, according to her father, Charlie’s destiny. After arguing with her parents and refusing to give up, Charlie had gone to Vaggie and Alastor for comfort. Vaggie comforted her and told her the harsh reality of the situation. Still, she refused to give up, despite feeling like a failure. Charlie decided to figure out a way to negotiate with her parents and the angels. Before she could proceed further however, Alastor comforted her with his velvety announcer voice and took her arm in arm for a walk.

 The two of them sang, and danced, and even shared a kiss. Charlie felt like Alastor was redeeming himself and that things would be alright in the end.

 It was at that optimal moment, that the predatory Radio Demon pounced upon his gullible prey.

 Taken by surprise by surrounding voodoo spirits and black tentacles, Charlie fought back as much as she could. But a Creole lullaby sung by Alastor soon rendered her helpless. Charlie was kidnapped and briefly held hostage in Alastor’s lair. No rape or beating was involved, just a bunch of creepy touching and mind manipulating. He didn’t possess her but did manage to get her on his side when they were face to face with the king and queen. Alastor’s evil shadow held an angel’s spear to Charlie’s throat, a weapon capable of killing any demon. Alastor knew that his powers would not be enough against Lucifer. So he did the one thing to catch him off-guard: go for his child.

 Alastor soon proposed a deal with Lucifer and Lilith: Charlie and her hotel would be spared…in exchange for the throne. Lucifer accepted…and soon found his dark powers depleted, traveling into Alastor’s microphone staff. He and the dark spirits were now free to take over Hell, cause chaos and feast on innocent demon bodies and souls.

 It was at this moment that Alastor had a choice to make…one that could determine the fate of Hell itself. His mother was currently in Heaven, and he hadn’t seen her for decades. For a brief moment, Alastor saw Charlie and her friends struggling against the Exterminators…even Lucifer and Lilith were having a hard time. He could either give into his evil carnal desires; claiming Hell and its denizens as his own. Or he could step in, save Charlie and the others (while giving back Lucifer’s power and everyone’s free will.) He could free Husk and Niffty from their servitude to him, deeply apologize and help save the day.

 Alas, he did not.

Instead, he succumbed to his primal evil ways, losing any last trace of what little humanity he had left.

 The results were catastrophic. Though several demons and overlords joined together to try and defeat the Radio Demon, the damage had already been done. The Archangels had been a great threat to Hell. With Lilith and Lucifer’s powers gone and Charlie devastated that her plan had failed, Alastor was the only one strong enough to overtake so many Exterminators at once. Reluctantly, the other demons let Alastor take the lead…which would soon be a fatal mistake.

 Using his powerful magic, and deal-making, nearly everyone in Hell was soon under his control. Their eyes would glow demonic red with moving radio dials in place of pupils. Sinister smiles of sharp teeth would always be present on their faces. They could be moved like puppets, be summoned, and be called to perform musicals at any time. The citizens weren’t mindless zombies however; they kept some of their original traits and were more than willing to serve their new overlord. Even princess Charlie was now Alastor’s queen and best friend (though they never had sex or married). Those who refused to surrender were slowly tortured and cooked alive.

Hell’s population was now a hive-mind, and the lord of chaos was their leader.

   Part 3: Domain of the Radio Demon

 The crimson sky in Hell would often shift back and forth to a variety of colors…neon green, purple, black and then back to red. Giant red Voodoo symbols lay scattered in the sky and vibrated like dancing clouds. Radio towers loomed at every corner of Hell, jazz music constantly pulsing among the radio waves. A smug Alastor lounged in his newly conjured throne, a tall golden chair with a shadow wendigo on the back, red voodoo symbols decorating the sides and a pair of black antlers fastened at the very top. Black tentacles slithered everywhere like dark snakes.

 All the drug stores and strip clubs had vanished. Valentino, the formerly powerful porn studio owner, sat helplessly as his studio burned to the ground, thanks to shadowy dragons breathing fire from their mouths. Pentagram City now resembled New Orleans in the early 1900s. A demonic version of Mardi Gras was celebrated for four months of the year, complete with the typical yellow, green and purple costumes, masks and decorations. The parade was the same as on Earth, save for the animated voodoo dolls that ran around fighting each other or poking at demons with black pitchforks. The stock market was obviously crashed, as it was Hell, but even more so now. It was stuck like the 1929 crash, resulting in tons of crying demon orphans roaming the streets with nowhere to go. The demons wore suits, dapper dresses, top hats and other stylish attire against their will.

All the tea and sweets shops were gone, replaced with coffee shops and stores selling deer meat. Demon farmers were forced to burn all the strawberries they could find. Imps from the Immediate Murder Professionals were paid to enter Earth and bring game for Alastor to hunt in Hell. On occasion, the imps would capture lone humans wandering around on Earth. Once they were brought back, Alastor would break their bones, strangle them, skin them alive, or shoot them…all while broadcasting their screams on the air. Whether they were men or women didn’t matter to him. He never harmed any children or elderly individuals. The humans’ agonized yells and cries for help were music to his ears. He almost enjoyed it as much as eating them.

 In Alastor’s previous life, there was a cult following of macabre-loving listeners who would tune in and listen to his grisly descriptions of murders over cheery music. Although in Hell, Alastor didn’t have to worry about keeping his work secret from the public. In fact, it was the only thing that was broadcast, both on radio and on TV.

 Now, the Radio Demon was happily singing his favorite song before finishing another broadcast about his carnage. He would sing it at the end of every session, his microphone staff lit up.

  “Hey, hobo man, Hey Dapper Dan

You’ve both got your style

But Brother, you’ve never fully dressed without a smile!”

 “Your clothes may be Beau Brummelly

They stand out a mile

But Brother you’re never fully dressed without a smile!”

 “Who cares what they’re wearing

On Main Street or Saville Row

It’s what you wear from ear to ear

And not from head to toe that matters”

 “So, Senator, So Janitor

So long for a while

Remember you’re never fully dressed without a smile!”

The Hazbin Hotel was now a base for warrior demons walking through portals to invade Heaven. The remaining Archangels still had to be defeated, and the demons had been fitted with armor, spears and bursts of dark power, allowing them to fly and resist attacks. One of the portals revealed a section of blue sky and white clouds. To protect themselves from the sunlight, some of the shadow spirits embedded themselves into living demons’ bodies when they traveled to Heaven.

 Alastor grinned, Lucifer’s pointed black crown now resting on his head of red and black hair. Charlie wore her mother’s crown and sat in an equally sized throne next to him, the throne decorated with voodoo symbols and red apples. She had been gifted with a trident with an apple in the middle of it, the silver prongs turning red in color at the tips. She also had a conjured microphone staff, this one white and pink with an apple in the center. Charlie wore a fancy red dapper dress, black dress shoes, and a gold necklace with a ruby apple surrounded by two little golden antlers arching from it. Her eyes were red like his and her straight dark horns jutted from her blonde hair.

 Alastor leaned his face toward Charlie who smiled and blushed.

“Wow, Alastor,” she exclaimed enthusiastically, “I always imagined that Hell could be a better place for everyone, free of torture and yearly exterminations. But I never thought it could be anything like this.”

The couple watched as several voodoo spirits rode on skeletal horses and waving their harpoons at oncoming Archangels. A brown voodoo doll was hoisted up in the air by a dark gray demon wearing a cowboy hat. With a sickening slash, the doll sliced off the Archangel’s black feathery wings with a sharp knife. The robotic assassin fell to the ground, where it was trampled to death by a large cyclops waving a club.

Five Exterminators flew through the portal by the Hazbin Hotel, dodging poisoned arrows being shot from bat-like demons flapping in the air. A few pale-skinned demons down on the street had been heartless soldiers during the World War. They shouted in German and rode black tanks while firing at the angels from old bayonets. The soldiers possessed many animal-like traits, but they all had been human in their past lives. They were everywhere…Nazis, Soviets, Muslim terrorists, European explorers and conquers, unaware of their influence on third world countries and poorer communities. Russians, Americans, Germans, Japanese, French…all former enemies on Earth were now united in a brainwashed haze.

Alastor waved his hand and several soldiers and Archangels were flown backwards, crashing into brick walls so hard that their heads were crushed in a bloody mess on impact.

Charile’s smile fell and her eyes widened, a trace of her former self, rising to the surface. For a brief moment, her large orbs turned their former yellow. Alastor stood up and placed his hand on her shoulder.

“No need to get upset, doll-face. Death is a part of life…or the afterlife in this case. This is Hell, after all. There’s bound to be suffering and loss of life at some point. Besides, they were bad people, who deserved what they got. A lose-lose for them.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Well it was either a painful final death or being under slavery for a while. To tell you the truth, I personally think there are worse things than death.”

Charlie stared out into the horizon, where plumes of smoke swirled upwards toward the crimson colored clouds.

Charlie answered, as flickers of memories flashed in her mind. “Like all the violence and hate that goes on down here. How sinners never get a second chance to get better.”

Alastor shook his head. “I was thinking of the loss of free will. When you are bound by the rules of society and you never get a chance to express yourself. When people are so quick to label you as a freak, or a psycho, or a madman. It’s all because they don’t understand what it means to get a thrill out of life. Even if the thrill involves killing and eating people…if it’s a way to get food and relive stress and boredom, why not keep going? Sinners and demons and humans alike, living their pathetic greedy lives…I’ve done them a favor by granting them their demise.”

Charlie’s eye flickered from red to yellow and back again.

“But you’re a sinner too. And so are your friends. Why set them to this fate?”

Alastor narrowed his eyes and summoned his red microphone staff in his right hand.

“Well, ‘this fate’ as you so put it, is the fate they chose for themselves. You saw for yourself how they shook my hand, one by one. I offered them anything and everything to make their lives in Hell more enjoyable. It was the least I could do, me being a gentleman.”

He spread out his arms. “Look how happy they are!”

Charlie glance over toward her friend Vaggie, who bore a grin of sharp teeth that was very unlike the angry, aggressive, protective woman she was before. Her Hispanic voice and accent sounded like it was being played through a radio. She let out a laugh as she struck an Archangel in the chest with her harpoon. Angel Dust was relaxing and looking through a book of dad jokes instead of browsing through a porn magazine. (He had cried when he was forced to burn them before he got possessed.) Niffty dashed around, cleaning up corpses that littered the streets. She even took the time to mop up the rest of the spilled guts. Even Husk, normally grumpy, was grinning ear to ear as he sat and gambled with a few other demons sitting at an outdoor table near a bar.

Charlie was appalled. “How dare you possess my friends like that?!”

“Our friends,” he corrected. “I didn’t kill them, and I do appreciate their company.”

“No, no, that can’t be right…” A pureness inside of her had made herself feel lighter, her head clearer than it had been in days. Then she spoke a thought that she had kept bottled up for too long.

“This is all wrong.”

  Part 4: Sinister Plan

 Just then, a faint shuffling of steps came from behind Charlie’s throne. Charlie glanced behind her, wondering what could be making that sound. Alastor closed his eyes and sniffed the air. “Oh my, this is going to be fun.”

He tapped his microphone and the red eye in the center glowed red. A halo of light emitted from around the top of the staff.

“Hello,” he said with a little laugh, speaking into it. “Is this thing on?”

“I heard you loud and clear…again!” came the radio voice from the microphone.

“Greetings demons and demonesses of Hell! It’s your favorite radio host, Alastor, live on the air! I’m here with my dear queen Charlie and one of her friends, Angel Dust. Hell’s previous porn star has been feeling a bit…under the weather. Let’s get his head cleared up, shall we?”

Glancing at Angel Dust, he snapped his fingers. The red from the white spider demon’s eyes faded, and his eyes turn their normal colors: a black right eye and white left eye with pink pupils. Angel Dust shook his head.

“Man that must’ve been one horrible trip. How the fuck did I get out here?”

Angel rubbed his eyes and looked around at the peculiar version of Hell… the psychedelic colors and symbols in the sky, Alastor sitting on his throne, Lucifer’s throne in pieces nearby…and Charlie staring at him with concern.

Angel sighed in frustration out loud. “I knew taking that extra meth was a bad idea. Now I’m tripping into another trip. Is this double Hell?”

“Angel, it’s me, Charlie!” Charlie called.

“Hey there, babe,” he said, using a friendly nickname. “What are you doing over there? You look very different. And what’s the strawberry radio pimp doing up on that chair?”

Alastor’s eyes flared in warning.

“No time to explain,” Charlie said, urgency in her voice. “He’s freed you for some reason, but you gotta get out of here!”

Alastor cleared his throat. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Angel raised his eyebrows. The shuffling from Charlie’s throne started up again, followed by the sound of oinks. A small pink potbellied pig strolled out from behind the throne after looking around.

Angel’s eyes lit up. He held out his pink gloved hands.

“Fat Nuggets! Come here, boy!”

With a happy snort, the pig bounded on all four stubby legs into Angel’s lower arms.

“Aww, my pudgy little pig! So glad I found you.” He nuzzled his pet as the pig gave him a friendly lick on his furry cheek. His pink curly tail wagged as Angel tenderly rubbed his flappy ears. A genuine smile crossed his face, followed by a glare directed toward Alastor.

“I’m not gonna let that red-haired handsome creep get a hold of you. We gotta get back to the hotel. So nice…and strange of him to free me like that. I knew that he was hiding some of his feelings toward me.”

Charlie’s eyes widened and she pointed behind Angel with a shaky finger.

“Like I said,” Angel continued, fluffing up his chest. “Even the weird guys can’t get enough of this lovely body!”

  “Uh Angel…” Charlie gulped. “I think I know why he freed you…”

A faint slithering sound came from behind him followed by a low growl.

Angel slowly looked behind him, and was met face to face with a leering white mouth and plain white eyes against darkness.

“Run!” Charlie cried, as tentacles materialized from behind her and wrapped tightly around her waist.

Angel brought out his gun in two hands and fired rapidly at the shadow apparition in front of him. He nestled Fat Nuggets in some of his other hands.

The black tentacles caught on fire as Charlie burned them off her. Thin shadow imps flew around her like bats, as she showed them away with a burst of orange fire from her mouth. The shadows shrieked and vanished…but more kept coming.

Alastor’s shadow look-alike held a dark fork and knife in his hands.

“Oh no you don’t, hungry fucker!” Angel yelled, firing more blasts. His fur turned black and he grew several inches taller. The shadow was temporarily blinded by the flashes of light, and was being pushed back. The shadow jumped, arms spread out before Angel dodged out of the way. The shadow vanished into the ground, before shooting back up. Tentacles grabbed hold of Angel’s multiple arms, and Fat Nuggets slipped from his hand.

“Uh oh!” Charlie yelped. Charlie raced toward the pig to help him but soon fell through a small round portal, decorated with a red pentagram and symbols. A second portal appeared in the air, Charlie falling through…

…and landing right into Alastor’s arms.

“Oops,” he said, a mischievous look in his eyes. He caught her by holding her side and her legs with his hands. “Looks like Charlie’s falling for me once again!”

Audience laughter emitted from the microphone.

Charlie turned red in the face and scrambled out of his arms.

The pork pig ran as fast as his stubby legs could carry him.

“Here piggy piggy,” Alastor crooned in a sing-song voice.

Angel Dust broke free of the black tentacles holding him down. He jumped high in the air and leapt toward Alastor. He rammed into a large emerging tentacle and slid down to the ground. One tentacle curled around his waist, a smaller one around his neck.

“Choking me, are ya?” Angel wheezed with a wink. “Where’s the deeper pressure? Hahaha, that the best ya got?”

The spider suddenly yelped as he was flung high into the air by the large dark tendril.

“Whoooaaaa!”

Angel flailed in the air beginning his decent. A second tendril caught him around three of his arms just before he hit the ground. Circus music played from the microphone.

Then he was thrown into the air again, before being caught again by four tendrils woven tightly together. He was tossed again several more times before being lowered to the ground. The music stopped.

“Whew, fuck!” Angel exclaimed, catching his breath. “And I thought getting high was exhilarating…but it’s not as much fun as really going high...Hey!”

A large tentacle wrapped tightly around Angel, causing him to stumble to the ground. Several more tendrils assisted with pinning down his arms and legs.

“Oooh yeah, gotta love me some hentai,” Angel grinned with a moan, lust in his eyes. His fur turned back to white. “Tighter, daddy!” His chest fluffed up and he spread out his legs.

Alastor reeled back in disgust, hiding his revulsion with his usual smile. “You really are a sick perverted fellow, aren’t you?”

Angel laughed with a wink, “I’d love to catch you in my web someday.”

A pause.

Surprisingly, Alastor chuckled in reply. “I wouldn’t start laughing just yet.” He pointed off in the distance.

Angel Dust turned to look, and saw a gut-wrenching sight.

Alastor’s shadow was snickering as he held Fat Nuggets in one of his dark hands. Charlie was still fighting off the horde of hovering spirits surrounding her.

“It was quite entertaining distracting you,” Alastor added.

Rage flashed in Angel’s eyes. “I’m gonna kill you, you bastard!” He struggled against his bonds, Charlie helping him get free by burning the tentacles away.

The shadow vanished into the ground and reappeared beside Alastor. He gently dropped Fat Nuggets into his gloved hands.

Charlie and Angel gasped.

“Thank you, dear fellow,” he grinned at his shadow counterpart. “I was getting pretty hungry.” He stared darkly at Angel. “My, how the tables have turned…”

He ran his slender fingers across the pig’s back, the animal squealing in protest.

“Let my baby boy go!” Angel yelled, teeth bared. “I’ll fucking tear you to pieces and shit on them for good measure!”

The Radio Demon reared his head back with a malevolent cackle.

“You are quite the fun, effeminate fellow, Angel! It’s always a pleasure to mess around with my fellow sinners. Now I believe… it’s time for my snack.”

He spoke in a low voice through his staff. “Brace yourselves folks, because I’m going to savor this porky morsel right here!”

Fat Nuggets squirmed and squealed and shrieked with all his might.

Charlie breathed a blast of scarlet fire from her mouth, but Alastor caught the flames with his hand. The flames turned an eerie green and molded to fit inside his palm.

“Thanks for the heat!” he called out.

Fat Nuggets wailed in protest as Alastor held him by the scruff of the neck over the flames.

Angel dashed toward the Radio Demon again, only for two tendrils to crash into his gut and send him soaring backwards. He stood up on shaky legs.

The pig’s screams echoed throughout the streets. A shrill sizzling sound and the smell of smoke made Angel’s fur stand up. The pig’s pink skin glowed in a slight ember tone, turning red, black burns creeping up underneath his belly. Alastor’s fingers remained unharmed within the emerald colored flames.

Tears flowed down Angel’s cheeks as he let out an ear-shattering wail that caused the asphalt below him to crack. Angel and Charlie watched helplessly as the creature continued to be cooked. Off to the side, the pig’s round shadow was impaled by a black fork. Alastor’s shadow opened his mouth, closing around the shadow pig’s body. Swallowing his meal whole, the shadow fork came back out, empty.

The smell of copper, fire, and burnt pork wafted in the air. The physical charred pig gasped for breath as he stared at Angel one last time with wide pleading black eyes.

“No, no, FUCK, NO!”

Angel reached out his gloved hands fruitlessly toward his beloved pet, the black tentacles stretching out to meet his movements like thick rubber bands.

The green flames vanished, smoke rising from Fat Nuggets’ hide. He was moved closer to a wide open mouth with rows of sharp yellow teeth. Angel and the pig met each other’s eyes, staring deep into each other’s souls before…

CRUNCH!

Yellow fangs sank deep into Fat Nuggets’ lower neck. Specks of blood shot off haphazardly into the air. Fat Nuggets let out one last croaking squeal before his body went limp. Bits of red and pink muscle tore off, lodging between fangs before vanishing. Pools of dark red blood were lapped away by a long lavender-pink tongue. The rest of the pig soon vanished inside the Radio Demon’s mouth before the sharp canines closed. The sounds of chewing were soon followed by the inevitable swallow.

Alastor’s eyes glowed red, his voice turning lower in satisfaction and pleasure.

“AHHHHAHAHA… that was absolutely delicious!” He conjured a red napkin and whipped away the remaining blood around his mouth.  “Finally got a taste of some yummy fresh bacon.” He looked at Angel and chuckled.  “And after all those times you kept your pet away from me…HA! It was only a matter of time before I got my revenge.”

 Angel sank to his knees and sobbed. “Fucking murderous bag of deer shit! You’re gonna go to a Hell even worse than this one, when I’m through with you…”

 “Not if I can change that,” he replied.

 Alastor waved his staff and an invisible force hit Angel in the face. He winced and clutched his forehead, letting out an estranged yell. He appeared to be struggling inside his head, trying to ward off the invading magic seeping into his brain. After several minutes, his eyes soon turned red once more, his six arms going stiff at his side. The red radio dials replaced his pink pupils at the same time an evil smile was displayed across his white face.

 “Monster!” cried Charlie, looking from Angel to Alastor.

“I don’t see what the problem is,” said Alastor with a shrug. “Our friends are basically the same people,” Alastor said. “It’s just their thoughts and behaviors have been altered to better suit my tastes. It makes ruling Hell much easier, and it’s a necessary precaution. I have a fearsome reputation to keep up, and it must be known by everyone.”

A long repressed thought emerged into her mind in a flash. “Where are my parents?”

“Safe and snug in the voodoo spirits’ domain, separate and powerless, of course. I’m still trying to figure out how to fully control angels, but in regards to your mother…”

He let out a sneer, “…It wasn’t too hard getting inside her head.”

Charlie imagined Alastor flirting with Lilith and inwardly gagged.

“You…you creep!” Charlie yelled, shaking her head, her eyes returning to their normal golden hue. She glanced over toward the Hazbin Hotel in the distance, memories starting to appear.

“I have to get back to the hotel…” she thought. “I’m supposed to help redeem sinners. What am I doing sitting on a throne without everyone dancing happily in Heaven? I have to figure something out to stop him…my people need my help.”

 Part 5: Demonic Possession

Charlie jogged off rapidly down the steps and across the street. She kept the old Hazbin Hotel building in her line of sight, the building silhouette a beacon in a sea of flashing neon colors illuminating from the sky. One by one, as if on cue, her friends slowly turned their heads to look at her. Vaggie walked zombie-like toward Charlie and held out her spear in front of her. Vaggie’s right eye was red and glowing, her left eye missing behind her hair and an ugly red x. Angel Dust, also smiling, spread out all six of his arms, two of them holding a gun. His legs were slightly bent. He appeared to be in a position to pounce, like a spider who had spotted a nearby fly. Husk arched his back and bared his yellow fangs, while Niffty burst harmlessly into flames with a giggle nearby.

All stared unblinkingly at the princess, sharp fangs showing.

“Guys, it’s me, Charlie!” cried Charlie, stopping in her tracks and holding out her hands. “Alastor’s using you. You have to let me pass! That’s an order!”

Alastor chuckled darkly from behind, inching closer to her.

“My dear, I’m afraid it’s not going to work. Their souls are firmly bond to me. Only I can free them.”

“Then let them go!”

“Heheheheheheh…Why would I bother doing that? That would only hinder my progress and end goals. Which reminds me…”

He appeared in front of Charlie, materializing from shadow. Charlie’s horns grew and she conjured red fire around her. Her eyes widened and her sclera turned pink. Before he could speak, she yelled and unleashed a powerful blast of force that knocked the Radio Demon back. Niffty rushed at her at full speed. She landed several fast punches to Charlie’s chest, orange and red flames battling for control. Charlie tossed Niffty to the side, being sure she landed in a soft patch of dried grass off to the side. Charlie then shot out a volley of fire toward Alastor, who blocked it with a tower of black tentacles that rose from the ground in front of him. A blast rang out from Angel’s gun and Charlie felt something hit her leg.

“Shit!” she seethed.

She reached down with one hand and pulled out a dart. Charlie recognized the small trident symbol on the top.

“Playing with Baxter’s toys? That’s not like you, Angel!”

A numbing sensation instantly crept up her leg. She shook it, trying to make the feeling go away. Heavy spots tap dancing along her leg and foot…no other clear way for her to describe the feeling.

Charlie shot another blast of fire toward Alastor, but Vaggie swiped it away with her weapon.

“Last time I remember, you were the one protecting me from him!” Charlie exclaimed. “You have to snap out of it.”

Vaggie’s eyes glowed red, her stretched out smile plastered on her face. “Alastor’s the one protecting us from the Archangels. He helped save us from Sir Pentious, Vox, and Valentino, remember? He’s helped out with the hotel as well. You can protect and lead us, too. Just let him help you.”

“No!” Panic and desperation was flowing through her now. She would not let herself be possessed again. She walked over to Vaggie, leg shaking. “Remember our relationship, Vaggie. You’re my girlfriend. I’m sorry if I didn’t listen to your warnings about him before. We have a chance to make things right again.”

Tears threatened to spill from her eyes, but she held them back.

Vaggie smiled, “Yes, I am your girlfriend, if that’s what you would like...”  

Her voice was monotone. Charlie held onto a brief glimmer of hope…

“And I know we’ll both be happy together under Alastor’s reign.”

“Please,” Charlie begged. “Come back to me. Is this what you really want?”

“I just want you to be happy,” Vaggie said. “With or without me.”

The real Vaggie would’ve gutted Alastor right then and there if he had laid a finger on Charlie.

Charlie tenderly cupped one of her gray cheeks. “I want to be happy, too. Just…”

She wiped away a stray tear.

“Listen to me. Stop fighting, please.”

Vaggie’s wide grin never left her face. “Why are you crying, Charlie? Let me see your beautiful smile.”

Charlie gasped softly and after a moment, stepped back. Her numbing leg wobbled underneath her.

Niffty and Angel walked over to her.

“Let’s put on our happy faces and kick some…Archangel butt!” Angel added. “Crying’s unacceptable!” His usual brash Italian-like accent was warped by an underlying radio-sounding effect.

Charlie knew Angel had tried to use a swear word in his sentence. Angel would never hold back on cussing.

Niffty giggled, flames vanishing from her body. “My, my, what a mess you’re in! Tear and sadness just won’t do!” Even her chipper, rapid voice was meshed with glitchy static sounds. It was almost like Alastor was speaking though each of them. A fiery pentagram surrounded Charlie’s feet. “Everyone just stay back!” Charlie was about to run, when Husk leaped and grabbed her arms from behind.

“Husk, let go of me!” Charlie yelled.

 A brief silence.

 Click, clack. Click, clack. Click, clack.

 A rhythmic tap, tap, taping of shoes grew closer.

Husk’s furry face was the epitome of a cat high on catnip. “Being happy would be purrfect for you,” he crooned, a low mechanical drone following seconds after the cat demon spoke.

Husk was never happy. And he certainly did not care for any dad jokes. The fiery pentagram vanished.

“Listen and obey, darling,” hummed a familiar voice.

In the blink of an eye, Alastor was standing in front of her. He leaned down slightly.

“As I was going to say before that interrupting fight…that angel part of you keeps trying to resist my power. It’s been happening several times each month.”

He briefly cupped her chin with his gloved hand.

“But no matter. Once all the angels have been defeated and Earth becomes more accessible, perhaps I’ll gain enough power to keep you in check…permanently.”

Tears sprang from Charlie’s eyes. She struggled harder against Husk, but her arms were held firmly in place. A lone black tentacle was securely wrapped around her legs, moving toward her arms. “No… no, stop it! Stop!”

 With a free hand, she slapped Alastor hard across the face.

Turning his head back around, Alastor dug his sharp nails into Charlie’s bare arm, leaving several cuts. Her arms were quickly pinned behind her.

Fresh blood oozed from the cuts, Charlie wincing in pain.

Alastor grinned, dipping in his claws a bit deeper. He brought his fingers toward his mouth and licked off Charlie’s blood from his fingers.

Coppery and sickly sweet.

“Oh my. Your demonic blood is just as sweet as your personality and looks.”

Disgust filled Charlie’s gut, and she tried not to faint.

 Charlie took a breath. She had to escape.

Charlie swore and opened her mouth in a fearsome demonic roar. But Alastor remained unfazed.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he said in a sing-song voice. “There’s no need for that, my dear.” He lifted up the corners of her mouth with his fingers, Charlie growling once he let go. “If I wanted to, I could’ve killed you and all your loved ones. Just like that. But then again, it’d be pointless to do so to a charming demon belle with your level of influence. Besides, life would be soooo boring without you and our lovely friends around to entertain me! Your plan may have failed, but I assure you, you’re no failure.”

He then spoke almost in a whisper. “After all, who knew you’d play a big part in The Radio Demon’s success?”

Alastor’s black antlers grew slightly taller, arching out to the sides. His red eyes rolled back into his head and turned black, moving red dials appearing in the center. He closed his hand and several glistening drops of blood fell to the ground. The old scratching static-like sounds of a radio intermingled with his low chuckle. He lifted up her pale chin with his microphone staff and spoke in a low demonic voice, “Smile my dear, and look into my eyes.”

Charlie squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip.

Alastor’s voice rose back up to normal as he began to sing.

“You have a dream, you wish to tell, about happiness and harmony in Hell…”

Charlie’s breathing quickened as jazz music began to play not too far away. The music waved and spiraled in her head, overpowering her thoughts of resistance. She breathed deeply and willed herself not to listen to his singing. Her thoughts soon drowned away as his velvety voice continued. Her eyes slowly opened…

“I’m here to help you out, we’ll go the extra mile…but you’re never fully dressed without a smile.”

The world around her turned red as she stared into Alastor’s eyes. Voodoo symbols meshed with static and fractured bits of reality. A lone elongated shadow with the appearance of a small male deer, seeped harmlessly into her bare shoulder, traveling through her body before fading away in distorted specks. Charlie’s insides felt ice cold, as if some of the warm energy coursing through her core had been sucked away. Husk released the shivering princess and stepped back with the others. Charlie’s mind went blank, hands falling at her sides, her black pupils rolling back into her head. Her sclera turned from yellow to crimson red. A wide fanged smile appeared on her face as the strange cold feeling vanished.

“That’s much better,” Alastor smiled as he reverted back to his regular form.

Alastor held out his two gloved hands and Charlie took them. They moved their legs and bodies in sync as the jazz music grew louder.

“Alright, listeners, it’s time for a brand new song! Feel free to dance and sing along!” A band of shadow spirits were playing jazz instruments as they appeared from a crater in the ground. Together, the two of them danced and sang a demonic duet as the battle continued in the distance.

“A one, a two, and here we go…”

    Part 6: Hazbin Madness

 (“Hazbin Madness/Alastor’s Army”)

 (Alastor) “Among the flames and gore

In Hell’s city galore

Radio waves spread wide”

 “We dance along the floor

We’ll show you what’s in store

Here, there’s no place to hide”

 (Alastor) “Welcome to my Heaven in Hell

(Charlie) Where demons never see the light

Shadow spirits: (Alright!)

(Alastor) With my lovely demon belle

(Charlie) And my gentleman of might

(Both) The realms will all be ours tonight!”

Shadow spirits: (That’s right!)

 (Both) “Come on out and have some fun

Taking out souls one by one

We’re back in style, dressed with a smile

Embrace our rule, you cannot run”

Shadow spirits: (No one can run from the Radio Demon)

 (Chorus)

“Come down

(Come down!)

Don’t turn back around

Beware the Hazbin Madness

Our demon army’s abound

 Come down

(Come down!)

Go smile and play

But don’t fight against us

Lest your life slips away” (Hey!)

 (Charlie) “My life was changed by a twist of fate

(Alastor) My heart was battered by gnawing hate

(Charlie) Those who begin with a fresh clean slate

(Alastor) Won’t know their own failure until it’s too late”

 (Alastor) “Welcome to my Heaven in Hell

(Charlie) Where demons never see the light

Shadow spirits: (Alright!)

(Alastor) With my lovely demon belle

(Charlie) And my chaos lord of might

(Both) The realms will all be ours tonight!”

Shadow spirits: (That’s right!)

 (Shadow Spirits and possessed characters, clapping)

“Hey, hey, say no more!

We follow our overlord Alastor!

Hey, hey, say no more!

We follow our overlord Alastor!

Hey, hey, say no more!

We follow our overlord Alastor!

Hey, hey, say no more!

We follow our overlord Alastor!”

 (Chorus)

“Come down

(Come down!)

Don’t turn back around

Beware the Hazbin Madness

Our demon army’s abound

 Come down

(Come down!)

Go smile and play

But don’t fight against us

Lest your life slips away” (Hey!)

  The two rulers waltzed through a puddle of blood, sang over the screams of demons being slaughtered by a few brave Archangels. The possessed crowd ran off back into battle. The Radio Demon spun Charlie around in a circle, soon stopping her fall. Alastor’s staff was bathed in red light, and a beam of white shone from the eye in the center of the microphone, providing a spotlight for them.  

 Soon, the song was over and the dance finished with a demonic Charlie in Alastor’s arms. Alastor leaned in and kissed Charlie softly on the lips. Blushes crept over her pale cheeks. They soon parted.

 Charlie laughed in delight. “Oh Alastor, that was so much fun! Can we dance some more?” Neither of them minded the splatters of blood on their fancy outfits nor the sound of hell flies buzzing around dead demons littering the streets.

Alastor clicked his tongue. “As entertaining that would be, there’s still some work to be done. Those Archangels and rival demons aren’t going to kill themselves.”

“I’ve never been to Heaven or Earth before,” Charlie mentioned, eyes shining. “I’ll get to see what those places are like, right?”

“Indeed you will,” said Alastor. “Those who try and stop us will fall down to the inferno of failure. Soon, we’ll get the chance to rule several realms, and look forward to endless entertainment! Who knows, you might get a chance to meet an angel or a mortal…at least, those who survive long enough.”

“And we can celebrate our victory with dancing and good food,” Charlie added, licking her lips.

“Niffty and I can whip up all sorts of dishes. Coffee and eggs for breakfast, Jambalaya for lunch, demon and deer meat for dinner…”

“Are there any specialties?” she asked.

Alastor grinned and nodded. “Human flesh.”

He let out a maniacal laugh as Charlie and her friends joined in.

Alastor spoke into his lit up microphone. “Thank you again for tuning in, fellow sinners! I’ll see you next time on your one and only station, 66.6 FM. And remember, you’re never fully dressed without a smile!”

The microphone blinked off.

Part 7: Angels and Demons

 After the other demons had their evil moments of fun, they casually went back to doing their own things. Charlie and Alastor walked back, arm in arm toward the thrones.

 “Hmm,” Alastor thought out loud. “I wonder how the denizens of Heaven are faring during this tremulous time.”

“Let’s go and find out!” Charlie said.

With a snap of his fingers, they were in front of the flaming portal by the Hazbin Hotel. They stepped through the hole and onto a white fluffy cloud. There was the city of Heaven, perched in the clouds with a white halo of light around the outside. From a distance, it looked like a ringed planet.

 Usually, Heaven would be a pristine, orderly utopia with dancing angels, bustling city-goers and choirs singing “holy, holy, holy!” in sweet voices. It would usually be quite peaceful, the complete antithesis of Hell. It would certainly be the ideal place that Charlie had imagined it would be back when she proposed the idea of sinners getting redeemed.

 But not today…pandemonium was everywhere.

 Archangels with dark feathery wings flew at top speed, slicing off the bat-like wings of large scaly creatures and dragons. The golden temples, platinum office buildings, and other structures had been set on fire by a rogue band of hellhounds clad in spiky collars, leather jackets, and torn pants. The gems in the walls had been taken out and looted by shadowy bandits. A flash of grinning teeth were shown behind the dark hoods as the demon robbers inspected their prizes and jumped back toward Hell. A pale-faced angel scurried away in fright from two imps waving chainsaws in the air.

One spire made of glass toppled down onto the solar-paneled street, shattering into a dozen pieces.

“In just a matter of moments, this world will also be mine…erm, ours,” Alastor quickly added. His microphone lit up and he broadcast the battle as it continued on.

 The Archangels Gabriel, Michael, Raphael, and Uriel fired beams of heavenly light at the shadow demons, causing them to explode. But thanks to Alastor’s power, fortified further by Lucifer’s power he had obtained, more shadows kept sprouting up like wicked weeds.

“That demon down there…” Raphael pointed downward and looked at his brethren. He was a healer angel with long brown hair, a white face, a pair of white feathery wings and earthly green robe over his shoulders and body. “He has the powers of our fallen brother Lucifer. I can sense angelic energy in his staff weapon.”

“May I remind you that Lucifer’s no angel,” Michael stated, brows furrowed. He had thick red curly hair, a white face with the red blushes, plus yellow eyes. He was dressed in blue armor, with gold shoulder pads, a red Christian cross symbol on his breastplate and a winged gold helmet on his head. His armored boots were golden. He unsheathed his sword Excalibur, a powerful weapon with a blade capable of going aflame. It had a gold curved hilt with a red gem in the center. “He’s a demon and a traitor. Our Lord’s creation, Man is indeed, quite flawed and their lives are…shall I say…infantile when compared to ours.”

“Don’t go down the same pride-driven path as Lucifer,” Uriel warned him as the battle continued around them. Uriel had short blonde hair, white wings, a thin white face, a white suit and tie to go with his plain look. He could have easily blended into the white puffy clouds. A demon crashed into Michael’s silver shield and he swatted the demon away with a burst of strength. “Uriel continued. “He deemed humans to be inferior simpletons made to serve angels and perish. Do you want to get banished to Hell and meet the damned?”

“Look at this place!” Michael exclaimed, slashing a demon in half with his sword. “It’s practically Hell already! Thanks to those imps and their portal-creating abilities, all these cretins have invaded our realm!” Michael briefly transformed into a dark Exterminator and swooped through the air, showing no mercy to nearby demons. He transformed back and stood by the others.

“I don’t think that’s the whole story,” Gabriel added. He had long curly blonde hair, a white face, yellow eyes, and wore a robe of light blue. “I think that red demon was somehow able to use his powers to create a portal to Heaven.”

Gabriel took a breath, disintegrating a snake demon in a flash of light.

“But, back to the topic before…God must have had a good reason to create mortals. They were created in His image, after all. They were created to reproduce…to pass on their traditions and knowledge to future generations. God needs a variety of living beings to revere him. Unlike us, Angels, mortals always change and evolve.”

“Yes,” Uriel responded. He looked around in worry at the carnage. “This was what God was afraid of…he was worried that Hell’s overpopulation would get so bad that there were be no room left, even in Hell. Well, that’s not exactly the case here… however…he also feared Lucifer would seek revenge and create an army to try and take His place.”

“But I thought Lucifer had made a pact with Him and us,” Michael said, shooting blasts of fire at a horde of demons below. “Lucifer agreed not to set foot in Heaven again. He rules Hell for crying out loud! And, if I can recall, he also has a wife and a child to look after.”

“Yes, well, a common thing for a human to do,” Uriel said. “We angels aren’t encouraged to mate and procreate. Not that we could, even if we wanted to.” A hint of longing was etched in his voice.

He briefly leaned down slightly and set his golden eyes on a red demon woman, the lady flaunting much of her bosoms and chest while blowing up buildings.

Gabriel sharply pulled Uriel back. “Forbidden,” he growled in a warning tone.

“Sorry.” A blush crept to his cheeks.

“But yes,” Michael continued. “Lucifer would stay in Hell, and once a year, the Exterminators would be sent to eliminate citizens at random to keep the population in check. What a brilliant idea. Though, I have to admit, Samael’s blood-lust concerns me.”

An Exterminator with ragged long red hair and red eyes stabbed several demons at one with two harpoons in his hands. He burst into flames and sent a group of demons out into dark space. He conjured a silver whip and lashed several times at a green horned dark haired demon woman holding a knife and wearing a snakeskin dress. She screamed and fled, but she soon was brutally choked to death at his hands.

Raphael gulped and pondered in thought, landing a hard uppercut to a yellow demon shaped like a large worm. The creatures shrieked and plummeted down into the sky. “Wait… God sensed that Lucifer’s child had proposed redeeming sinners by creating a hotel for them to stay at.”

“Very unexpected,” Michael scoffed. “And highly ineffective, if not impossible. Why put trust in a naive demon princess, when our Exterminators can always be relied upon?”

“I don’t think it’s that clear-cut,” Raphael replied. “It’s a rather brilliant plan, especially coming from the daughter of Satan and Lilith. I think it’s the angel blood in her that makes her so innocent. God told us this a day ago.”

“Mhm, I remember,” Michael casually answered, not paying attention to the conversation.

Puriel, the angel of judgement left his post at the Heavenly Gate and appeared to them. Like Uriel, he was also dressed in white.

“Something’s not right,” he said. “That mortal turned demon over there…” he pointed down at Alastor. “No mortal has possessed that kind of power before. From the moment his soul left Earth, I sensed that he would be bad news. He’s not supposed to be here.”

“No shirt, Sherlock,” Michael replied, beheading a goat-headed demon from behind him.

“As you all may know, I am the judge of souls brought to Heaven, and I’m also a messenger and seer. Lucifer wasn’t supposed to have his power taken away. He was supposed to come up and face us and God after discovering how elitist we are about letting demons in and how we won’t hesitate to make their lives an even more living Hell.”

The other angels stared at him blankly.

Puriel sighed. “Of course only I would understand my visions and His Word. But know this…the demons Charlie, Alastor, Angel Dust, Vaggie…they all were not supposed to be possessed. They were meant to work together and help out all the sinners…much to our dismay and shock. And as for Alastor…”

Alastor’s deer-shaped ear-like tuffs perked up at the sound of his name. He slowly turned his head 360 degrees.

Puriel spoke in a voice so low, not even Alastor could pick up on it. “…His mother is here in Heaven. She is a former Voodoo/Hoodoo practitioner of color named Loretta. She introduced Alastor to the folk traditions and warned him that it had nothing to do with human sacrifices or cannibalism, or gaining power. Those were societal misconceptions…and ideals of a few truly evil Loas. Alas, he didn’t listen.”

“Loas?” Gabriel asked.

Puriel sighed. “Powerful African ancestral spirits. Go look it up on the Interweb of God. The point is, she supported him when his father and society put him down. He spiraled down into madness and it escalated when he arrived in Hell. He should’ve been redeemed like all the other demons Charlie knows.”

“But…only God knows what will happen next…or what should’ve happened next,” said Uriel.

“But, what will happen next?” asked Raphael.

Puriel took a breath. “God only gave me a reference point in the past. It took place just after Sir Pentious’ defeat by Alastor. He said that after Charlie and the others arrive at the hotel…”

Puriel was cut off by a blur of red that knocked everyone back.

The angels flapped their wings to keep themselves in the air.

“Look out!” shouted Raphael. He conjured a green shield around himself as a blast of black flames shot him backwards. Michael launched himself at the Radio Demon, his sword clashing against his staff. Metallic clanging meshed with radio static as sparks flew. The demon and angel were engrossed in a rapid duel.

“What are you supposed to be anyway, some kind of clown with swan wings?” Alastor laughed. “And why’s your halo made of barbed wire?”

“You’re one to talk, delusional dapper deer!” Michael retorted. He pointed his sword at him. “Surrender right now or face the wrath of God and eternal punishment.”

“Eternal punishment?” Alastor asked, doing air quotes. He lowered the weapon away with his fingers.  “Don’t make me laugh. I lost what I had before long ago…but then I gained newfound fame by sheer will. My previous life was Hell on Earth. My current life is Heaven in Hell. So…” he made an innocent face with shining doe-eyes. “Does that mean I’ll begin a new mortal life here?”

Spittle flew from his mouth as he was punched hard in the gut from behind. Gabriel glared at him and withdrew his fist. Alastor wheezed and let himself fall forwards.

The angels dove after him in a V formation.

“You’re not gonna steal my show!” called Alastor, turning around on his back.

Grinning, Alastor shot red bolts of electricity at his assailants. The angels dodged the blasts, save for poor Puriel who got hit square in the face. His face was healed instantly by Raphael’s gentle touch. Uriel grinned slyly at him. “Wanna touch some more, in private?”

Raphael rolled his eyes.

Michael flew over and lifted a collapsed white pillar with just his hand. He threw it at Alastor, who ducked just in time.

With a swipe of his sword, Michael sent multicolored flames straight at him.

“Arrguh!” the overlord shrieked. His horns grew from his head and he brushed off the flames. He stared in disgust at his now charred outfit.

“My new suit! I just got this sewed by Niffty!”

Christian crosses made of light, clashed with dark red Voodoo symbols in the air. Gabriel, Michael, and Uriel attacked Alastor from different angles. Fists rapidly made contact as Alastor blocked the attacks with his arms. Gabriel dodged a kick to the face from Alastor’s shoe. Alastor’s antlers torn into Raphael’s robe. Black tentacles attempted to grab the angels as they appeared from portals in the sky. Michael slashed the tendrils to bits with his sword, spinning around rapidly and frightening away nearby demons down below who were fighting over a bottle of beer.

For a while, it was a stalemate. The opponents stood and faced each other.

Then, Alastor felt a touch coming from behind him. A pale hand was caressing his fluffy black and red deer tail.

“Oh my…” said Uriel. “It’s so fluffy…even more so than a cloud…”

“Uriel!” Raphael warned from above.

Alastor slowly turned his head, one of his eyes twitching. An inhuman growl erupted from his throat and suffocating dark energy surrounded him.

“No one touches me. Ever!”

His voice was low and demonic. Radio static crackled, briefly replacing the sky in flashes of red and neon colors.

In the blink of an eye, Alastor had both his hands out, nails razor sharp, buzzing with green electricity.

With scraping and squelching, Uriel’s feathery wings collapsed and fell from his back. The sharp claws hastily ripped off the attached white feathers, sending feathers and bits of flesh down in a bloody mess.

Uriel gasped in pain and promptly plummeted.

“Uriel!” cried Raphael.

His comrade scooped up the wounded perverted angel and carried him to safety.

Gabriel stared with a shocked face a second too long. A slap of tendrils sent the angel backward, crashing into the street below. He was hurt but not fatally harmed.

 Alastor and Michael clashed one last time, light and darkness beams colliding in the center. The impact was so great, that a small white crack had appeared in the sky.

Michael rushed off with the other angels to call God.

  Alastor peered through the crack and saw a bunch of humans walking around in a city park. A funeral was being held for a bratty kid who had died in Hell and had been returned by a group of imps. No one noticed the tear in the fabric of reality.

“Those pathetic humans and that dull world will never see what I have in store for them.”

Alastor wondered how much time had changed. Did New Orleans look different from when he was last there? Did he have any surviving relatives? He didn’t have any children, but a majority of his family had resided in New Orleans and parts of Canada.

Radio static appeared and disappeared again.

 He tilted his head, somehow sensing…something else.

 His thoughts were interrupted when a painfully bright light slowly grew larger and larger from the Olympus shaped palace.

Even with his powers, there was no way in Heaven or Hell he could fight Him. At least not on his own.

He let out a shrill yell and dove back into a portal to Hell. The shadow spirits and the rest of the demons retreated after him. Charlie closed the portal, flying back with severed angel heads in her hands.

Alastor turned off his radio staff and found himself falling fast. The anti-gravity spell he had used on himself and the non-flying demons had worn off. He couldn’t help but yell as he spun down, uncontrollably.

 Inside a bar in Hell, a demon with a German Shepard head, wearing brown pants and an old cotton shirt was whistling as he polished his hunting rifle.

 CRASH!

 Alastor made a hard landing through a building, plaster falling to the floor. His head got lodged in a hole in a wall, his black antlers getting banged up. The hunter dog jumped back with a bark. Alastor shook his head and glanced around. Along the wall to his left and right were trophies of deer heads, mostly brown ones or the skulls of deer.

Alastor had accidentally knocked a deer head to the floor, his own head lodged through the brass plaque on the wall.

The dog man stared, wide eyed.  Then he barked with laughter. “Holy shit! I guess I got a live one!”

Alastor swore in French. “Very funny.” For the first time, he was thankful that his radio staff was off.

He raised his hand, but the dog bit his wrist with his infected yellow teeth.

Alastor seethed and shrieked in pain. Visions of raging suffocating waves filled his head. He shook his head to clear away the frightful visions.

Rabies.

Of course it had to be rabies.

“Stay back!” the dog growled.

Alastor growled in fury, his eyes red radio dials.

BAM!

A bullet from the hunter’s riffle pierced through his head, right between the eyes.

Not again.

Ignoring the dreadful traumatic memories flooding in, Alastor slowly lifted his head back up, covering his anger with his signature smile.

Radio static pierced the air, the dog cowering and covering his ears with high pitched wines. In an instant, the dog’s head and body exploded in a gory mess which fell to the floor.

The room fell silent.

Husk looked up from his spot at the bar table, the strange grin still on his face. The other demons briefly watched, then continued on with talking and drinking.

“I’ll get it!” called the chipper voice of Niffty, who sprinted forward with a mop and a bucket.

“How embarrassing,” Alastor muttered as he freed himself from the hole and wandered back outside. He knew that the rabies and bullet wound wouldn’t affect him, as he was already dead.

At least not physically.

Emotionally, however…that was another story.

But he soon shook away those thoughts.

 Thankfully, Charlie was there to comfort and compliment him after the battle.

“You did great out there,” she said. “We’re so close to conquering Heaven. I figured it’d be a challenge.”

“Yeah, well, it’s a start, at least,” he said.

“Oh no, your head…” Charlie said with concern, looking at the gushing hole.

“It’s nothing, dear!” he replied.

His cheery voice hid his exhaustion. His hands were caked with cuts and dried blood from the extensive use of his powers.

“I’m going to go rest,” he told Charlie.

“Okay, Alastor, see you when you come back.”

Alastor hopped down through a portal and into his interdimensional lair. After washing up and having leftover deer meat, he sighed as he lay down on his satin sheet bed. The droning of a radio shutting down filled the air as Alastor fell asleep with his eyes wide open.

 Part 8: The Witch Doctor

Once Alastor woke up, he made his way down to his living room and sat down on a leather chair. An old rotary phone sat on the table in in front of him, the buttons white and the long phone black.

He spun the black rotary dial around with one of his long claws, clockwise, counterclockwise, then several other times. He picked up the phone from the stand, a long wire connecting it to the rest of the structure.

A disconnect signal rang through the other line, then an automated voicemail:

“Fuck you for calling Hos-Pit-Hell, Hell’s number one medical care facility. If you are in need of emergency care, please dial 9-6-1-6-1, and we’ll get to you as late as we can.  Pick your medications and poisons for just 66.99 souls. Or enjoy the benefits from your health insurance program, Mediscare, Medislayed, Red Pentagram, Ackpria, etc. If you’re calling for a prescription, press one. If you’d like to speak with our specialists or providers, press two. To make an appointment and face a 50% chance of death, press three…”

A rotation and press of a button.

“Hello there,” said a monotone female demonic voice.

“Yes, this is Alastor, the Radio Demon. I just got back from a brawl with those goody-two-shoes angels and I took a bullet to my head, again. Yes, we’re all dead but we still get hurt down here.”

“Appointment?”

“Yes, I’d like to make one for five minutes from now.”

“I’m sorry, sir, we are currently at full capacity. The majority of our patients are suffering from COVID-20 and the rest of them are bodies storied in the remaining rooms, overcrowding the basement and some outside. There simply isn’t enough room. And I thought the current crisis on Earth was bad.”

Alastor growled. “I don’t care, madam, you can tell your supervisor that those bodies can be eaten to make more room…by yours truly, if necessary.”

“I am the supervisor,” she said with a screech and chomping of teeth. “And I say, there’s never enough room here…we are short-staffed, all the protective equipment has been used for a month, and not even I can keep up with all the modern demands.”

“I’ll be there in five minutes. My head hurts and my hand is metaphorically killing me. Please have a room ready for me with the witch doctor.”

“Sir, I’m afraid…”

“You and your staff are supposed to take care of your patients. If you aren’t able to do so…then not even the best doctor will be able to help you once you’re taken care of by me…”

A tense silence.

“Are we clear?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

“Splendid! I’ll be there soon, have a nice day!”

He hung up the phone with a loud slam.

“Ah, that satisfying slam sound never gets old.”

 Alastor soon arrived at the entrance to the Hos-Pit-Hell, a hole in a cave down inside an ash-covered pit. His shoes echoed off the stone walls as he walked. Blue torches attached to the walls gave off eerie flickers of minimal light. A couple of pale white ghosts were playing poker at a small table near the damp stone wall. Alastor glanced in their direction and the spirits froze in fear.

“Boo!”

The ghosts wailed in fright and disappeared through the wall, dropping their playing cards.

Alastor clicked his tongue and continued down the vast cavernous hallway.

 The offices and rooms gave off the appearance of dungeon cell doors. The metal grate doors creaked as they were opened, demon patients following their care providers inside. In one room, a demon wearing a cowboy hat was strapped to an operating table. A promiscuously dressed nurse stood beside him, wearing a red hat with an upside down white cross on it. Her skirt was short and white and her name tag read “Betty.” She held two large needles in her hands and gave a polite smile.

“I’ll be taking care of you this afternoon, Mason,” she said. “Just take a deep breath and relax…”

The demon screamed in fright as the nurse giggled.

In another room, a doctor wearing a white lab coat was examining a demon, bond in a tub of icy water.

“Maniac symptoms appear to be decreasing significantly. Brain activity slowing down, aggressiveness level diminishing. I believe this procedure is already becoming successful.”

The horned ram demon’s teeth were chattering, his eyes glazed over, brown skin blue with frostbite.

 Another sign on the wall read “torture therapy.” Inside another room, demons were being painfully stretched on racks or hovered over burning coals as meditation music played. One was in a lotus position on top of a large green cactus, trying to keep still. One demon’s eyes bulged from her head as she was put through intensive shock therapy in another room.

   Alastor soon made it to the front desk, a desk made from black wood held in place by demon and human skeletons huddled close together, concrete filling in the extra space.

A black and green giant leech was typing onto a computer with hairy legs and another leech was checking other demons in.

Alastor cleared his throat and the leech looked up.

“I’m here for my appointment with Aradia Bondeye Greda.”

“Waiting room is over there,” said the leech, pointing to a space with metal benches with rotting skeletons sitting on them.

Alastor sighed and snapped his fingers. The corpses and bones disintegrated into flames before vanishing in puffs of light pink smoke. One of the metal benches morphed into a red velvet chair and he sat down.

A pile of magazines and newspapers lay on a nearby table: Hellhound Monthly, the Daily Damion, 666 News, along with several paper ads for I.M.P.

He stood up and stretched.

 Dark demons wearing cowboy hats and capes spoke in harsh whispers. “Is that the Radio Demon?”

“Yeah, what a psycho punk.”

“Going to the doctors, ha!” snickered the other demon. “What’d did he do to get hurt?”

“Hey, your Majesty!” said one of the demons in a mocking tone. “You call yourself a man, fucking sissy child?!”

 Alastor froze, his eyes widening. The waiting room faded away in black, a vision overtaking him…

 “…fucking sissy of a boy! First you don’t play sports, now you decide you’re hot for dudes, is that right?”

A light brown skinned boy, age ten, cowered in his small upstairs bedroom.

“That ain’t true, father!” he protested. “I’m not into anybody! I just dance with girls for fun…”

“Lazy dewdropper boy with nothin’ better to do than to sit at home and doze off to musicals on the radio. Ya tryin’ to be a disappointment to me and the Lord?”

“No father, I swear! I…I’ve been much better at hunting. I can almost shoot perfectly now. And I’ve contributed to the war effort. You know, handing out fliers and singing songs…”

“Not good enough!” The man’s white face turned beat red, his breath smelling of whisky. “I can see why those at school take you to be a weird sap. You’re lost in your own puny head, not giving a flyin’ horsefeather about what goes on in the real world. You bring mud into the house every day after frolicking around outside like it’s no big deal. What a disappointment.”

“Dad, I’m not a disappointment!”

A dark skinned woman’s face appeared from in the hallway, a woman with short black hair, wearing a cloth dress of red and purple, white lace around the collar.

“Louis…” she warned. “Qu’est-ce que tu fais? Laisse-le-tranquille!”

The man turned to her.

“Loretta, stay outta this!”

He slammed the wooden door in her face and locked it, ignoring her knocking and protests.

Louis glanced lustfully at a hidden picture of a blonde dapper woman in his pocket, then turned back to him.

“If you wanna live under this roof, I expect you to follow my rules. Tell me, you’re a bi-racial freak who hits on any guy he sees, is that right?”

The young boy shook his head. “No.”

“Answer the question truthfully, you liar.”

“Dad, stop!”

“Answer the god damn question, boy!”

The boy didn’t budge.

Louis walked over toward the closet, and removed a sinister-looking long black thing from around a hook.

Alastor stepped back, eyes wide in fear. “No, no, don’t!”

“Don’t you talk back to me, punk!” Louis scolded. “You deserve this after you rudely interrupted my session with Merida last night.”

He ordered the young boy to undress. The boy took off his shirt and pants with shaking arms. The black boxers were the last to go. This wasn’t the first time he had been beaten…he didn’t want the punishment to drag on.

“Thatta boy,” he nodded in approval.

The first lash struck him in the stomach, almost causing the boy to fall. A sharp, searing pain.

Lash!

The whip lashed several times against his back, emitting piercing screams from his throat.

Lash!

A strong punch to his jawbone left him wailing. He had a bad feeling that he’d wake up in the morning with several bruises.

Kicks, scratches, whips…the assaults went on, Alastor gritting his teeth against the sharp sensations. He tried to concentrate on his mother’s soothing voice from outside. He could hear her sobbing from behind the door.

“You’re a worthless sissy slut!” Louis bellowed. “Say it.”

“I…I’m a worthless sissy slut…” he looked down.

“Louder! Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

Alastor stared, tears in his eyes and repeated the phrase again and again. He was utterly humiliated…a sickening feeling inside him every time he spoke those self-degrading sentences. The spanking was especially painful…his brown bottom turning red as a beet. Alastor closed his eyes and waited until it was over. He looked at his father and obeyed his commands, anxious for the torment to end.

At long last, the beatings stopped. His body ached all over, brown skin beat red.

Alastor thought it had ended…

Then his father had a crazed look in his eyes. He slowly walked over to him, a sway in his hunky hips.

“You like men, do ya?” he asked.

Alastor lied and nodded, feeling helpless.

White fingers reached down and Louis unzipped his pants.

“Well, then, for taking your punishment, I’ll give you a little reward…”

 A hairy hideous cock dangling before his frightened eyes…

A horrible presence of something long, thick and foreign, pulling in and out of him from behind…

Rough calloused hands exploring light brown skin, tugging his neither regions, every touch a sickening violation.

The horrid taste of flesh and semen in his mouth, the choking and gagging worsening the experience.

An odor smell in the air…a slimy substance, sticking to him and inside him, like a liquid pathogen that could never be cleansed away. The room was abuzz with child screams of protest, clashing with low grunts and manly moans of pleasure.

  He felt like a deer that had been run over and spit on.

His father’s face inches from his own…

Speaking in a bone-chilling whisper…

“…and don’t you ever spy on me with my other sheba again, ya hear me?! You tell your mama, I’ll make you both wish you’re were never born. Crying pussy…”

 He stomped out of the room. Alastor brawled into his pillow for what seemed like hours. He wanted to die then and there.

Soft dark brown arms enveloped he weak form, as someone sat down on the bed beside him. A white towel was wrapped around him protectively. He knew that comforting smell of perfume and herbs anywhere.

 “Je suis desole…mon fils…”

Alastor buried his face into her dress, crying some more until he was tired. Her warm hugs were soothing, her hand tenderly rubbing his back. Loretta took his hand and led him to the bathroom.

Sensing his need for privacy, she closed the door and stood guard outside.

After washing up and wiping tears away, he headed down to the kitchen, smelling something good.

Loretta spoke in English, her smile radiant and kind… “Your favorite meal, sweetheart. Thought it’d cheer you up.”

Alastor sat down and his eyes lit up. A hot colorful dish of jambalaya sat waiting for him. A mesh-up of pink shrimp, onions, green pepper slices, sausage bits and a few other vegetables. The first taste sent a fiery kick to his tongue.

“Hot sauce, of course…” she said.

Alastor chewed happily, imagining that he was eating his father’s fried fingers.

She tenderly touched her son’s cheeks, wiping away the remaining tears.

“You’re not worthless. You’re not a sissy. Don’t believe anything your father says to you. You are my son…and no matter what you do, I’ll always love you.”

“Y-you really believe that?”

“I swear by the Lord above, I do.” She planted a kiss on top of his head of brown hair.

She tenderly lifted up the corners of his mouth, a playful look on her face. Alastor’s cheeks blushed in happiness.

“Hey, don’t forget to smile, my dear. You’re never strong nor fully dressed without one!”

 “Alastor…”

A low nurse’s voice interrupted his thoughts and he turned around. She had pink hair, white skin, and, strangely enough, a man’s voice. The demons who had taunted him earlier lay in bloodied indistinguishable pieces on the floor.

Much like how his father looked after he had ensured his torture and death would be excruciating.

Revenge was a dish best served raw…and he had never been as satisfied with human flesh as during that night…

 “Alastor!”

He turned around. “Yes, that’s me.”

He followed the nurse through an arched doorway. After she checked his weight, listened to his chest, checked his eyes, teeth etc. she stood in the center of the small room. Alastor sat on a long hospital chair, the thin sheet covered with bloodstains. She reached up and briefly touched his furry tuffs, making him flinch.

“Looks like your ears are fine.” She touched and examined them again, emitting a growl from Alastor’s throat.

“They’re not ears.”

“Then what are they?”

“Horns…I think?”

“I thought they were deer ears. How can you demons hear without ears, anyway?”

“Cartoon logic, perhaps?! How am I supposed to know?”

The nurse finished her assessment and wrote down the results on a clipboard.

“You had any alcohol in the past week?”

“Several bottles of liquor and some dark coffee.”

“Have you ever smoked?”

“Only in my human life. I did it in nearly every building.”

“You have any allergies to any medications?”

“No.”

“Have you ever experienced any repressions or issues of sexual functioning such as…”

Her clipboard split apart down the middle and fell to the floor, Alastor holding out his finger.

“Never mind,” she said, bending down to pick it up.

   “Alright, Alastor, the doctor should be with you in a moment.”

She put down the clipboard pieces on the table and held out her hand. “5,000 souls.”

Alastor’s eyes darted around, even as his smile stayed on his face. He knew that the visit would be expensive. He placed eight large dark coins in her hand.

“Not enough, sir,” she replied coldly.

“Each one is worth 800,” he coyly answered.

She shook her head, scrutinizing the coins. “I don’t think so. Give me 5,000 or consider this visit over.”

The nurse soon found herself standing waist deep in a large pile of gold coins. A rainfall of coins fell through a hole in the ceiling, landing painfully on her head of pink hair.

“Is that a satisfactory amount?” he asked.

The gold coins heated up in ember glows. The nurse flinched as the hot metal touched her bare legs. “Ow, ow ouch!”

“I can still complete my visit…can’t I?”

“Ow, yes, yes this is…ooowww… fine! Just…make it stop.”

“Swell,” he replied. He snapped his fingers and the illusion ended. There was no hole and no gold coins anywhere.

“I-I’ll let her know that you’re here,” said the nurse in a stuttering male voice. She dashed out the door, high heels clanking against the tile floor.

 The door opened and in stepped the witch doctor. Her hair was long and white, and made of moving snakes with red eyes. Her eyes were blank white, but she could still see where she was going. A wooden cane tapped against the floor as she used it for support. Her skin was dark brown with a few wrinkles. She wore a cloth dress with ancient symbols stitched onto it. A bag attached to her belt had healing herbs and a few poisons in it.

“Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite dapper deer!” she said with a smile.

“How wonderful to see you, Aradia,” Alastor smiled, touching her cheeks in greeting.  

 Aradia was one of the few demons who saw Alastor more than a fearsome ruler, or a casual friend. She was similar to Mimzy, Charlie and Rosie in that she could be considered his friend as well as his doctor.

But there was more to it than that…she was the only person he had to a counseling mother figure. She still had a youthful appearance in regards to her slender smooth body and soft features in her face, despite the wrinkles occasionally showing along her forehead and among the corners of her eyes.

Aradia was older too… she had been born as Sara M. Greda in the 1800s and was burned at the stake for witchcraft. Though she may have poisoned a few settlers with her herbs, she mostly used her spells and deeds for good.

“Shall I take you for a drink, later?” Alastor asked with a wink.

Aradia clicked her tongue. “Ha! No sir! You may think you’re so smooth with the ladies and any sheba you come across, but your charms won’t work on everyone. And neither will they work on me.”

Alastor glanced at his shoulder, where the nurse had poked him with a needle.

“Well…it was worth a shot.”

He laughed softly at his joke.

“Alright then,” she said. “Let’s take a look at your hand and head.”

She paced around and lifted up his clawed hand to the light. Bite marks, raw and red, stung sharply within his flesh.

“Oh dear. That’s pretty deep.” She waved her hand over the wound, being careful not to touch it. She hummed a spell and closed her eyes. The inflammation and infection slowly started to fade. Alastor let out a small sigh of relief.

“Wrap your hand in sterile wrappings and gauze.” She handed him a dark plum colored potion in a small vial. “This is a mixture of mugwort, rosemary, and…pardon my joke…deertails. Take a few sips every morning and then rinse your mouth thoroughly with water. Say this prayer to respect the healing goddess…”

She spoke a mantra in a different ancient language that somehow, he could interpret.

“And don’t forget to honor your ancestors as well. Not even a powerful man like yourself can do everything on your own.”

Nodding, Alastor took the bottle and pocketed it. His previous suit he had worn in the battle was currently being washed and tended to by Niffty. Thankfully, he had a spare one.    

“Now then…about that bullet in your head…”

Alastor tried not to squirm when the witch got close. She looked right at him with her blank eyes. “I know you don’t like to be touched, but this will only be for a few minutes.”

Her soft thin hands maneuvered around his gray forehead, hovering over a round black hole with a rim of dried blood. A pair of metal pliers and a scalpel appeared in her hands. Alastor’s breathing increased, arms and head twitching in an instinctual urge to escape.

“Please hold still,” she urged.

 Alastor’s shadow familiar appeared and snapped his dark fingers. Shadow tentacles wrapped tightly around his arms, chest and legs, preventing him from moving.

Alastor glared at his shadow, who placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Seriously?” he snapped at his antlered counterpart.

Aradia nodded in thanks to the shadow then went back to her work. She spoke a numbing spell and Alastor soon lost feeling in his head and hand. All he could feel was suffocating, uncomfortable pressure between his eyes as the skin was pulled open. Cold metal seeped into his brain and he closed his eyes. The horrible visions of drowning came back to him…similar visions he had suffered when he was bitten as a human.

Normally he was not afraid of water, or dogs, or even hunters…but the visions made them look like gigantic titans hell-bent on eliminating every last bit of him. A deer in the headlight’s look, with only his gun and no powers for protection. Racing through a dark never-ending forest, wailing like a deranged starved beast. The moon was round and full, peering from behind the clouds. Blood…blood, was everywhere, shining on his light brown hands after a murder, staining his white and red shirt. His black bow tie was lopsided, brown hair matted in a mess. His brown hunting boots were caked with snow and mud. His brown pants torn in several places. Every light from flashlights and every shout from officers made him jump. He didn’t know where he was going, nor did he care. For the first time, he felt helpless in the dark wood. Even the trees and the wind seemed to be mocking him. Maybe he could reach his house and radio station if he was fast enough…

 Inflammation burned through his head, black spots dancing across his vision. He paused, gasping for breath with his back pressed against an old oak tree. Peering in the dark, he spotted a lone buck in the snow, drinking from a pond.

With shaking hands, he aimed his rifle straight ahead, peering through the round glass attached. He maneuvered it until the four dotted cross lines were displayed on a tender area spot on the buck’s neck.  

Flashing a grin, he got ready to pull the trigger…

Sharp canine teeth sunk deep into his legs. Alastor stumbled at the sudden impact… his gun flying from his hands. A German Shepard, a Rottweiler, a Labrador… all snapping and biting him with ferocious barks.

A nearby deer hunter appeared front of him like an apparition and called out, “Criminal’s over here!”

Alastor’s heart quickened at the sound of approaching footsteps…the agonizing pain from his infected hand clouding his thoughts.

Nothing else mattered to him. Through the pain, he knew he would get caught and sent to the Big House for life. The hunter was now being hunted…and the end was in sight.

Alastor briefly shook himself free from the dog’s grips, reaching forward for the hunter’s gun.

The hunter seethed. “Don’t kill me, you murderous sap bastard! Let go!”

The voices grew closer…”Alastor Cajun, you’re under arrest for murder in the first degree…”

The two men wrestled for the rifle. Alastor placed his forehead close to the two holes. Both of their hands grabbed the trigger and pressed down at the same moment.

An ear-shattering blast rang out…

The bullet struck him square between the eyes. Blood spilled out from his head and he collapsed hard onto the snow-covered ground. The dogs pounced on Alastor’s failing body. His round glasses shattered and fell to the ground.

A smile was still on his face when he brown eyes glazed over and his head flopped limply to the side. He was already gone…sent into an unfeeling world of pitch black…

  “…and we’re all done,” said Aradia.

Alastor opened his eyes. The bullet shell glistened with blood between the metal pliers. Sweat dotted his face. She threw the shell into a nearby blue torch on the wall.

“Your visions should be over soon,” she said. Waving her hand again, the hole in his forehead closed up. The shadow tendrils released him, and his smiling shadow vanished.

“Thank you,” said Alastor, getting down from the chair and standing up on shaking legs.

“You’re most welcome,” she said. “I would never miss an opportunity to see my favorite patient.”

“Yeah you better not, or I’d have your guts and organs for breakfast.”

A tense silence.

“Kidding!” he said with a laugh, and Aradia laughed as well. Though she was thankful she was in his good graces.

“May Bondeye and your past loved ones be with you,” she said.

Alastor gave her a bow and a hug before going on his way.

 Part 9: Error: 4th Wall Break

Charlie smiled when Alastor came back.

“Ready to head out to Heaven?” she asked.

“Not today, my dear,” he replied.  He conjured up a radio and an unlucky demon got sucked inside.

A red mug of hot coffee appeared in his hand, the mug reading “#1 Radio Star” on it in red letters.

He stopped short and stared straight ahead into open space. Static crackled through the air and a glowing white crack in the air appeared. Alastor peered through the crack and saw the city park, this time at night.

It, indeed, was the human world. But somehow, Alastor sensed, another realm meshed deeper within that one.

“Is that the human world?” Charlie asked.

“Yes indeed,” he said. He nodded to Blitzo, Moxxie and Millie, all with glowing red dialed eyes. They scurried through another flaming portal nearby, slaughtering humans and throwing their mutilated bodies back through the portal. The I.M.P. jingle played in the background once the imps returned.

Charlie smiled. “Oh humans! How fun, how fascinating…”

“…and tasty,” Alastor added.

Alastor thought back to when he first saw the human world. Yes, the one in front of him would be there for the taking.

But exactly was that underlying presence hidden underneath?

Alastor grew to full demon form and stepped up to the crack. The humans scrambled away as another imp chased after them in the city.

“Hello? Anyone else out there?”

No answer.

 He tapped the air in front of him several times.

“Alastor, what are you doing?” Charlie asked.

Alastor ignored her, staring straight ahead. He didn’t appear to be looking at anything in particular. He tapped the air again, claws grasping at nothing.

White glowing cracks began to appear in the invisible wall. He pounded harder in front of him, feeling a force of energy. The cracks kept spreading in a haphazard web. They expanded and branched out more and more…

“You know, using a portal would be easier,” Charlie mentioned.

Alastor ignored her again. With more fervor, he let out a demonic growl, mingled with a humming of electricity.

“Al…” Charlie spoke.

Crack.

“Al…”

Reality shifted and morphed. Colored static filled the entire space, colors flashing, matter and transparent rectangular shapes flickering in different directions. The air began to shake like an earthquake rumbling to the surface. Red Voodoo symbols hovered around him. The static increased, radio sounds grew louder, reaching a discordant peak…”

“AL!”

The invisible wall broke and collapsed on itself.

 Alastor and Charlie peered through the black hole and gasped.

 “Well, well, well, who do we have here?” he asked with a radio sounding laugh.

 “What…is that?” Charlie breathed.

 Alastor looked closer. “I can’t believe my eyes. I’m looking at another realm. Or rather, another mortal realm.”

 Parts of her old self returning to her, Charlie waved happily. “Hello there! You’re human, right? Welcome to Hell!”

 “Of course they are,” Alastor replied, turning to look at Charlie. “And fortunately, they don’t appear to be a child.”

 “What gender are they?” Charlie asked. “I can’t see very well through that dark hole…”

“I could not care less about that,” Alastor replied. “Male or female, black, brown, white, whatever. As long as the mortal, or mortals, can provide me with some entertainment…it should be swell!” He absentmindedly licked his lips.

Alastor faced the front. “Oh dear, where are my manners? In case you didn’t know already, my name is Alastor. This over here, is my darling Charlie. Quite a pleasure to be meeting you.”

Charlie beamed again.

Alastor continued. “You there, on the other side…I’ve been quite bored recently. I could just share my conquests with other demons and angels and those other humans. But you know…I might as well do something fun in the meantime. How about I take you along on a tour of my domain. Free of charge! No need to be sitting in that chair or lounging around on that bed or whatever.”

“Uh, Alastor?” Charlie asked. “They’re on the other side of a screen.”

Alastor sighed. “Vox and his ridiculous TVs and tech. I’ll never understand them.”  

“I heard from Vox that modern devices are sometimes called computers, iPhones, iPads, tablets, holographic things…”

“Even worse!”

“Come on, there’s nothing bad about them. You’re into technology, too you know!”

“But radios are different! They’re simple, classic and fun. It was the technology in my time. Of course I’m going to be sticking with it.”

“That technology isn’t used as much nowadays.”

Alastor shook his head. “People still use them. Those who aren’t are missing out.” He sighed. “I’ll never understand you mortals. Hey, I had trouble even understanding myself sometimes, but enough about that. You ready, mortal?”

He rapidly cut in and chuckled, “Of course you are, now let’s get going!”

Charlie gasped as Alastor stretched out his black gloved four-fingered hands, bent fingers spread out wide…

A dark demonic chuckle…

A steadfast grip and a forceful tug…

…Head and body merging through the screen, among static…

…and into the world of Hell.

  Section 2

Part 10: A World of Entertainment

   “Well then, welcome to Hell! Let’s get started on this little tour, shall we?”

 The way back to Earth was blocked by an evil-looking black dragon, who, for some odd reason, carried a backpack with a saxophone on its back. The dragon’s eyes glowed a demonic red, like all the other inhabitants of this place.

From all sides along the street, were grinning animal-like demons of a variety of colors. Clowns, hellhounds, imps, bi-pedal goats, TV-headed demons…all with glowing red eyes. Their stares and stances meant only one thing as they scooted closer and closer…

 There would be no escape.

 “I can take it from here, my dear,” he mentioned to Charlie.

 “Have fun!” Charlie called before wondering off back to the Hazbin Hotel.

 Alastor turned to his shadow counterpart and spoke in a low voice.

 “Keep an eye on her, and don’t let her out of your sight.”

 The shadow let out a distorted chuckle before arching upwards and vanishing into the distance.

  Alastor snapped his fingers and two large shadows spread out from his body, morphing into tall figures. Standing on either side of Alastor were two fit demon bodyguards wearing fancy suits, neckties with crisscrossed lines like that of radio towers, plus bow-ties under their chins. One had the head and large ears of a red buck, his hands that of deer hooves and large black antlers extending outwards. His suit was dark blue. The other guard had an old fashioned radio for a head. Dials encased in rectangular glass panels made up his eyes, his mouth a row of sharp metal fangs. His suit was dark red like Alastor’s, his necktie black with light red crisscross lines on it. His hands were four fingered sharp claws. He had no ears and no hair. They both looked like alternate forms of the Radio Demon.

 “Oh right,” said Alastor, introducing his lackeys. “This is Cerf and this is Muse. Sometimes when me and my shadow get bored and need to conquer a more challenging territory, I summon these two to assist me. Not many people know that I have backup boys around. It took many sacrifices and blood magic for me to create these…counterparts, if you will. Look, boys, we have a new guest!”

 “I’m telling you,” Cerf said with a snort to Muse. “He called me a buck-up boy! Is that all I really am to him?”

“It’s ‘back-up boy’ you stupid deer!” said Muse in a voice overlapped by static. “And I’m in the same position as you. Though I would say I have the more important role out of the two of us.”

“What do you do during the rare times he summons us?” Cerf asked. “I’ll tell you. You reside in Alastor’s head and come up with ridiculous jokes for him to use for his next broadcast.”

“Ha! At least I don’t mope around in his subconscious, trying to persuade him to “live a jolly freeing life in the world of nature.” I’m sorry good sir, but Alastor doesn’t have the longing fantasies he did as a kid.”

Cerf stomped his foot. “It’s always you and that Shadow Alastor appreciates having around. Not to mention you and your annoying transatlantic accent isn’t a good influence for him. And who am I? Just a decoy for powerful overlords to hunt after, while you get to parade around and help control his microphone!”

Muse turned to Cerf, clenching his clawed fist. “I beg your pardon, but who was it that decided to give Alastor antlers, red hair, and large deer tuft ears that may not actually be ears?!”

Cerf crossed his furry red arms. “It’s not our fault that he looks the way he does. Before this, we were part of Shadow’s group of spirits who helped transform him out of his mortal shell. Personally, I think his look suits him just fine. Heh, can you imagine how less relatable he’d be if he just had a metal head like you and Vox?”

Muse gasped with a screech. “Don’t you dare compare me with that techno-obsessed cretin!”

Cretin snickered, showing sharp fangs. “Oh wait, I just did! What are you gonna do, sing an angry song about it?”

Muse’s eyes glowed red. “Maybe I will!”

Both men growled and stared each other in their eyes.

 Their fight was soon broken off by a forceful magic shove that sent both of them to the ground. Their true shadow Loa selves briefly flickered in and out.

Alastor towered over them, annoyance in his red eyes despite his smile.

“Excuse me, but I believe we have a guest to welcome on this special tour. Plus, I’ll need your help once we invade Heaven and Earth.”

They stood up on shaky legs. “He started it!” they both said at the same time, pointing their fingers.

“It doesn’t matter who started what,” Alastor replied, like a scolding parent. “I can easily send you back into myself…or perhaps a one way trip to…”

Both men gulped, waiting in tense anticipation.

“…the sun.”

“Nononono!” whimpered Muse, stepping back. The bright light and intense heat led to a painful end for any shadow being.

“W-w-we’ll behave ourselves, sir,” Cerf said with a stutter. “We are a part of you after all.”

“Yes, yes!” Muse piped up. “We deeply apologize for our behavior.”

Alastor pondered in thought. “Perhaps I’ll show you some mercy for right now…”

Both sighed in relief.

“But you both have to dance on burning coals tonight and eat my mother’s special Creole dish…”

Cerf’s red eyes widened…

“…dipped in wasabi sauce.”

They both screamed and promptly collapsed to the ground.

 With a sigh, Alastor snapped his fingers and the beings vanished inside his staff, streams of darkness being sucked in before all was quiet.

“Sorry about that, mortal,” he said. “I thought I could make this tour more welcoming, but… things don’t always work out that way. Anyway, let’s move on.”

 It was time to follow The Radio Demon. The overlord clad in red blended in with the crimson sky and blood-red lighting from flickering streetlamps. His black shoes revealed red deer-shaped prints on the soles with every step he took.  Alastor went up a couple of steps and stopped by his throne.

“As you can see, I am now the new king of Hell. The previous one Lucifer…”

He glanced over at the broken white throne, purple snakes making up the rim and arms. Two purple snakes decorated the top part of the throne, their mouths gaping toward a ripe apple with a pentagram in the center. They were inanimate representations of the snakes that would come alive on Lucifer’s white top hat, back when he was in charge. Laying in pieces at the scaly concrete feet of the throne was a staff with a red apple on top…Lucifer’s staff.

“…well, let’s just say he got the short end of the stick when he made a deal with me.”

A brown stick appeared in his hand and then broke in half with a loud snap.

“The mighty ruler of Hell…brought to his downfall, thanks to his beloved daughter. To put my scheme in motion, I had to capture Charlie and convince her to take my side. It was one of many parts in my grand master plan. It wasn’t easy getting her to submit. First, I ensured that she would be successful in running the hotel…it was very entertaining during my visit there. I caused a little trouble, a mishap from time to time, but only to not arouse suspicion.”

   Silence.

 He stared for a bit, eyebrows raised. “You’re confused? Well let me explain. If I had acted like a perfect redeemed client right away, Charlie and the others would think something strange was going on. I wouldn’t be acting like myself, plus my reputation would go down. On the other hand, if I had harmed everyone there, I’d eventually just be bored again. Charlie caught my eye when I saw her on the picture show for the first time. Why miss an opportunity to…shall I say…make more friends down here, and mess around with sinners some more?”

Alastor laughed in his radio voice. “I mean, even killing demons and conquering territory does get boring after a while! What’s that saying again…”variety is the spice of life?” Yes, that’s it. Though personally, my favorite saying is “You’re never fully dressed without a smile!” It’s from the Annie musical, I highly recommend watching it.”

“Here I am, talking so long again. Let’s continue on.”

 Alastor lead the way down the steps and throughout the city. He glanced over at Vaggie and Angel Dust.

Angel Dust walked over, when he noticed Alastor, his guards and the following mortal. Vaggie grinned and held up a bloody spear in her left hand.

 “Hello there, human,” Angel Dust said in a static-filled Italian accent. “I was just finishing up a book on dad jokes and I must say, they are pretty funny. Might even get the attention of some buff looking guys out there.” He winked with one of his red eyes. “What did the penis say to his annoying younger brother? ‘Stop being such a dick!’”

  Vaggie rolled her eyes and let out an unnatural laugh, her Salvadorian accent also distorted. “You know how cheesy those jokes are. I bet not a single demon would even want to listen to you after being on stage.”

“Here’s another one,” said Angel. “What’s an arachnid’s favorite fall drink? Apple Spider!”

 Vaggie rolled her eyes again.

 Angel laughed. “You’re just jealous ‘cause I’ve been here longer and I’ve had more fun.”

 “Well, I have a girlfriend…when she’s not with Alastor.”

 Angel crisscrossed his arms and wiggled his gloved-covered fingers. “Well I have…six amazing arms that can do all sorts of stuff. Wanna see?”

 Vaggie briefly made a face of disgust. “No one wants any sort of demonstration. We still don’t know where your hands have been, and I certainly don’t wanna know!”

 “Oh well, your loss.”

 Vaggie waved at Alastor and hummed “You’re Never Fully Dressed.”

“May we dance, Alastor?” she asked.

 “Maybe later, my dear,” Alastor responded. “I need to finish up this tour.”

“Okay, sir, see you soon!”

Alastor briefly picked her up and spun her around in the air. She smiled affectionately after Alastor lowered her and rubbed her cheeks with two of his fingers.

They both waved goodbye.

 “Hehhehheh,” Alastor grinned, stopping and turning back to the front. “Don’t you just love their new personalities? As you can probably tell, they still have some of their old traits within them but with some great improvements. Angel Dust…”

He huffed in frustration.

“…well, he was a famous “adult” star in Hell and he would always be hitting on me and calling me such degrading terms.”

His eyes glowed an angry red for a split second. “I mean, ‘strawberry pimp?’ ‘Radio deer daddy?’ Absolutely revolting! I’d rather face a horde of rabid dogs than let that spider touch me anywhere.”

Alastor cleared his throat.

“Anyway, Angel was into porn and drugs and fighting any turf war that came up. I’ll admit, it was hard to keep him in line at first. At one point, I thought he would actually try and “redeem” himself with his sister and that cherry bomb lady and that delinquent slut hellhound friends of his. And yes, when you suddenly rule Hell, you get to know who else is around.”

“Alas, Angel was too deep in his pursuit of the next stimulating high. He wasn’t getting along with his father and brother. I offered to help him out, providing him with some drinks here and there. Angel took the bait, almost as easy as Husk. He began to trust me, even though I’d remind him to stay six feet away from me at all times. Eventually, after I made the deal with Charlie’s father, he fell under my spell like everyone else around here.”

 Angel’s bother, Arackniss, was short and had a black furry face. He was dancing against his will on a podium by a supermarket. His father, Henroin was hanging dead from a tree, via Alastor’s doing. No abusive individuals were allowed to live.

 Alastor mentioned to Vaggie.

“That darling Vaggie over there would’ve flown off the handle if I laid a hand on her beforehand.” He sighed contently. “You should’ve seen her face when she saw me and Charlie bond closer as the weeks went on. Charlie was so happy that more demons were coming to stay at the hotel. We bonded over music, dancing, and my jambalaya. Charlie didn’t notice Vaggie pouting in the corner with her arms crossed. I saw her and thought her little head might explode! Anyway, our friendship grew closer and at one point, she sobbed against the wall.”

 Alastor tilted his head. “It’s true. She kept coming up with plans to kill me, but my minions from the other side always watch my back. It was so hilarious when she pleaded in tears…”

He mimicked Vaggie’s voice, “Charlie, what have you become? I keep telling you not to trust him. D-don’t you want to spend time with me, anymore?”

“Of course, Vaggie,” he said, in an imitation of Charlie’s higher pitched voice. “I really am grateful for your help. But, Alastor’s oh so charming, and he’s such a big help. I know what I’m doing.”

He spoke in his regular voice, “Oh romantic relationships…so messy and so dramatic! I know how to act in a romantic manner, but don’t let that fool you. Personally, I’m not interested in sex or romance or any of that. I feel like I’m not fully in control when someone tries to hug me or get closer to me in various ways. Oh but boy is it fun to watch other sinners go through heartbreaks and tears. Charlie and I are what you would call “affectionate friends.” It’s like my associations with Mimzy, Rosie, Niffty, Husk, and the like. We hang out, we sing, we drink, we kill people…it’s all good fun. They know not to touch me without permission. No need to worry about being tied down or dealing with intimate touching.”

He inwardly squirmed.

“Besides, I’m much too busy with my afterlife radio career. It was a big help for me in my human life as well.”

  Alastor continued on. “Let’s keep going. I’d like you to meet my associates, Husk and Niffty.”

Alastor pulled open a door that led into a bar. Husk was busy serving up drinks for patrons sitting on stools. He was a black and white cat demon wearing a large red bow tie and a little black top hat between his ears. He had red wings with card suits on them. Niffty, the short hyperactive cyclops, was dusting off a pool table toward the back of the room, her magenta/red hair and pink skirt making her stand out. One of her little beds was in a round shaped unlit fireplace, similar to the one she was summoned from at the hotel.

 “Ah Husker, my dear friend! So nice to see you again.”

“All the same.” Husk had an unnatural grin of sharp yellow teeth on his face. He went limp as Alastor hugged him. He was like an independent teen who surrendered to the rules and hugs of a parent.

“What can I get you, Alastor?”

“New Orleans black liquor, 1902.”

“Coming right up.”

Alastor patted a stool beside him, but not too close. “Here, take a seat. Make yourself comfortable.”

A faint squeaking of the stool and a slight better view of the collection of glass mugs and the bottles displayed in glass cabinets. Faint jazz music played in the background as a demon shot darts at a target in the wall. Several others played cards on a table. A lone skeletal woman held a slender cigarette in her bony fingers. A demon with a dark face and a black top hat wore a long cape and dark suit. He appeared to be talking with another demon wearing a white beak-shaped mask over his face. They, too, were under Alastor’s power.

 On TV, a blonde skeletal woman was sitting at a desk, her eyes bright red. Next to her was a man wearing a suit who had with white hair and a gas mask for a face. They were Katie Killjoy and Tom Trench.

 “Good afternoon, Pentagram City!” said Katie. “The weather will once again be dreary and hellish with a high of 120 degrees. Makes Phoenix, Arizona seem like paradise.”

“Even hotter than Cherri Bomb’s natural bombs!” Tom added suggestively. “Imagine trying to get my hands on those…”

“Hahahaha. Your limp noodle is so shriveled and small, not even a zombie would want a taste of it,” Katie retorted.

 The crew ooohed and wolf-whistled.  

 “For the first time, turf wars are being shoved to the side…”

She shoved Tom Trench to the side…

“…as Hell’s denizens are being lined up to travel into a host of other dimensions, including Heaven and the mortal realm. Turf wars are turning interdimensional as angels and demons scramble to claim new territory from near and far. It’s extending even to all the Nine Circles of Hell! In case you didn’t know already, we are in the First Circle.”

 The smaller screen showed demons and angels fighting in the sky, in sandstorms, and dueling with swords and spears over burning lakes and volcanoes.

“Just look at the self-proclaimed King Sir Pentious!” said Katie. “He’s fighting tooth and nail over new territory…but it appears he’s getting screwed over.”

She popped a tooth, a nail, and a screw into her mouth.

A black snake overlord threw his pinstriped wearing egg minions at an angel’s face. His eyes were red instead of their usual yellow. A black tentacle was fastened around his neck like a leash. With a slash, two angels sliced Sir Pentious’ new flying tank in half, the hunks of metal crashing to the ground. Another angel picked up the snake, wrapped him up in knots and tossed him into the fiery lake below.

“Wow, he just suffered serious burns right there,” Tom added, wincing. “He’s still cocky but perhaps not as much after his daily defeats by the one and only Radio Demon.”

“Hey, that’s me!” said Alastor, in mock surprise.

Cherri Bomb was throwing red bombs into the faces of angels and yelling out swears and jokes.

“You angels are falling down on your jobs. A bunch of swan-winged clown bitches!” Her single eye was red instead of yellow, her hair in a strawberry blonde pigtail. She wore a torn up short black dress and had bare feet instead of her usual crop top, leggings and high heels. Apparently, she had disliked her dapper dress she was forced to wear and improvised, instead. She laughed as Sir Pentious climbed out of the lake of fire, burnt and humiliated yet again.

“More coming soon after the break!” Katie added, as she threw Tom Trench against the camera screen, which cracked.

 “Those two,” Alastor mentioned as he stared some more at the screen. “All they wanted was more ratings and the latest gossip. Though I find their attitudes despicably rude, they seem to enjoy being in the spotlight like me. Their ratings went sky high, but now they’re forced to tell dad jokes every session. It’s only natural that they surrendered after I was able to have better access to the picture shows. Oh and I may have invited some woman-loving animal demons into the studio to keep her company…”

Katie screeched and stood on spider legs as demons with heads of bears, snakes, and cats pestered her with cards and flowers.

“Say your next line, Katie,” said Tom.

Katie smiled tensely and dug her sharp nails into the desk. “I am a selfish animal-abusing bitch, so I may as well go and chase cats.”

The animal demons, also with hazed eyes, jeered and cheered.

Alastor barked with laughter. “Oh, ho, ho, ho, ho! That’s a swearing classic. You can guess who put that idea into her head. And no, it wasn’t my pathetic rival Vox…”

  He looked over at a man with a TV for a head, slumped onto a chair. He was no longer the confident electricity wielding overlord he once was. His screen face was cracked through the middle, both his arms cut off. Red words flashed against his dark screen: “My circuits are fried!”

“Heh, I guess that song had it all wrong,” Vox mumbled in a robotic voice of defeat, “Radio killed the TV star.”

A wild purple-haired doll demon named Velvet sobbed next to him, browsing through her phone. The formerly good reviews of Vox, Valentino and Velvet had gone sour. They were no longer the powerful villainous V’s with the aim of brainwashing the entire populace with technology and erotic propaganda. The good news for Vox was the fact that those on Earth (among many secret groups in Hell) still used cell phones, TVs, and a host of devices. (Plus porn and cyber-attacks were as popular as ever among Hell’s Dark Web.) That was one thing that the Radio Demon didn’t have complete control over.

 A rapid scurrying of feet approached.

  “Hello there!” Niffty chirped as she rushed over to the counter and hopped onto a stool.

“Greetings, little darling!” Alastor replied, looking over to her. He scanned the room, impressed. “You really spruced up this place.”

“Yes, it didn’t take too long,” she said with pride. “I had to fix that window over there because some demon threw a red cherry-looking bomb at it. I think it was a drunken imp.”

“Well, can’t help with the crazy behaviors caused by alcohol,” Alastor mentioned with a shrug.

Husk placed a dark blue bottle in front of Alastor, who took several sips from it.

“Still as good as I remember it,” he said in a satisfied tone.

“Who’s that with you?” Husk asked, taking a sip of beer.

“Just a human I picked up from another realm.”

“Oooh, how cool!” said Niffty. “It’s always a pleasure to meet new friends. Are they a man or a woman?”

“Well, it doesn’t really matter,” Husk said. “They won’t last very long down here.”

“That’s why I’m giving them a little tour of Hell. Give them something to enjoy in case…unforeseen events should occur.”

Un-mistaken mischief flashed in his red eyes when he cast them on the human visitor.

His voice switched to a casual tone as he diverted the conversation as if nothing had happened.

“So…would any of you like to share your stories of how you got here with our guest?”

Niffty raised her hand. “Sure, I’ll start!”

Husk looked hesitant and narrowed his eyes, the smile looking plastic on his face. “I’m a private person. Why should I bucking tell it to a mortal stranger?”

“It’ll be fun,” he encouraged, playfully poking Husk in the nose. “Who wouldn’t want to hear the story of how we met and how you started helping out with the hotel?”

Husk looked off to the side, ears perking up. “No one!” he rebuffed. His eyes flickered for a fraction of second.

Alastor’s tufts twitched as well at a unique sound.

From outside an open window, Alastor could hear some singing. Charlie was dancing around in her red dapper dress, her eyes in an intermediate stage of orange, pupil almost back to normal. The shadow seemed to be dancing with her, gripping onto her shoulders and staring at her with warning in his blank eyes. Every time the shadow tried to cover her mouth, Charlie would laugh evilly and frolic out of reach. The sound of her voice seemed to spur the others around the bar.

Niffty laughed. “I’ll admit, cleaning, cooking and sewing is fun and all, but wouldn’t it be amazing if I got some actual souls someday?”

Normally, Alastor loved to hear Charlie’s beautiful voice. But now, her singing had a strange effect he had not anticipated. His eyes narrowed and he gripped his microphone staff tighter. He gazed at Charlie’s bare arms and his mouth started to drool. As much as he enjoyed Charlie’s company, his gut and stomach was sending out a very different message. An all-consuming urge came over him…he imagined Charlie’s face turning from white to blue, hands squeezing her windpipe, her musical gasps for breath. Her wide-eyed look of failure, shock, and hopelessness. Demonic pieces of flesh within his teeth, coppery sweet blood filling his mouth like nectar…

 A demon with a rabbit head leaned out the window, eyes suddenly clear.

“Chaos may ensue, but hope can rise anew,” he sang along with Charlie, feet tapping along. “In the dark clouds, there’s a rainbow, pit and sky, you’re born to fly, as above, so below, you don’t know how far you can go…”

In a flash, the window slammed shut, slicing the rabbit demon’s head off like a guillotine.

Alastor leaned slightly closer to Husk and Niffty, menacing feedback emitting lightly around him like a faint scent before a storm. His smile was rigid and his unkempt yellow claws glinted in the light.

“I do advise you both to remember your roles, and your place in all of this. You may have done your parts back when I first summoned you at the hotel…but we all know that deeds in a deal never end.”

Brief panic flashed through both Niffty and Husk’s faces, neither of them making a move out of fear of their boss turning them to dust.

“Do you hear me loud and clear?”

Husk gave a curt nod after softly gulping. Niffty rapidly nodded her head. A brief sound of humming filled the space and their eyes were fully red dials once more.

“Excellent!” he said, conjuring another stool to prop his long legs on. “Now who’d like to start?”

Niffty raised her hand again. Husk sighed in defeat.

“Oh never mind, I’m just messing with you.” He playfully punched Husk who didn’t react. “I might as well tell. You two can go back to work.”

Husk and Niffty sensed it was an order.

There was a distinct sequence of all the remaining windows shutting and locking into place.

“Bye, human, it was nice meeting you!” said Niffty. “If you ever need your house cleaned up or you have some tears in your clothes, just call me and I’ll fix them up in a jiffy!” Niffty dashed off to lift vending machines to clean under them.

“Want any drinks?” Husk asked. “Costs six souls, mortal.”

A pause.

A faraway look in Alastor’s eyes as he glanced around the room, looking for anything else that might hinder his strong spell.

The cat demon shrugged and went back to drinking a mug of beer.

 “Alright then, mortal,” Alastor began, “As you can tell, Niffty and Husk are some of my lovely associates. And by associates, I mean those who are bound to my will after I make deals with them. That’s why I can summon them whenever I want. Niffty is super speedy and very skillful with the little things. Husk is strong and is a good balance to Niffty’s hyperactive behavior. I try to pick my associates carefully. I don’t just make deals when it’s not in my benefit.”

“So, about those two. Niffty first appeared from a fireplace back at the hotel. Niffty was more than happy to spruce up the place and clean it up. And I’ll admit, she does make some delicious meals, too. Man, that place really needed some re-decorating. Husk came to the hotel, after I summoned him from a casino. He was reluctant to volunteer for my charity work, but it all worked out after I gave him a cheap bottle of booze.”

  “Ah, Niffty, such a sweet little thing. She tends to be obsessed with men, so obviously, I was able to use my charismatic personality to win her over. I promised her a glorious life, free from the ensnaring flames, a life where she could meet all sorts of men and have her service recognized by the public. I often reward her good behavior with live voodoo animals she can play with. She also likes to eat them sometimes. We share our love of sewing and cooking so I say it’s a marvelous partnership!”

Alastor stretched his legs, then lowered them. He took several more sips of his drink.

“Husk and I actually met back when we were human. He was a fine chap, same as he is now. The last time I spoke with him then, he was talking about going off to war someday and something about familial problems. I wasn’t really concerned that much. He told me he died in the 1970s. He was grumpy and gambling his afterlife away in Hell. Gambling is unpredictable and very risky…there are better methods to cure your boredom. Of course, I offered him a good deal: work for me and receive all the drinks and cash you want. I also offered to help him find someone he could love. Heh, he feel for it, poor fool. I did give him some booze, but the piles of money were, in many ways, an illusion. He would gamble and win some, only to lose most of it the next day. Why pay him for his services, anyway? And finding someone to love? Ha! Nearly impossible in a place like this. He’d gamble, he’d steal some valuables, fight others in brawls on occasion. Redemption really is just a big hilarious joke.”

Alastor twirled his cane in his hand with a sigh of contentment.

 He got up from the stool. “Shall we, human?”

He led the way back outside.

 “You may be wondering why some of our main demons are wearing their regular outfits instead of the classic ones from my time. It’s simple: I’d like you to see them as how they would normally dress. A brief reminder of what life was like before…and now much better it is now.”

  Along the way, Baxter and Crymini were nearby, with red dialed eyes and creepy grins.

 The hellhound was Crymini. She had white fur with dozens of red spots along her arms and legs. Her hair was in a punk-rocker style, the tips bright pink. She wore a spiked collar and a dark short jacket. Her shirt was pink with a white skull on it. Her ears were pink and her eyes consisted of yellow sclera with pink irises. She was currently spraying red graffiti on a brick wall, the words reading “Alastor eats yo’ brains!” followed by a horns hand symbol.

 “Ah yes, Crymini the teenage Hellhound,” Alastor said. “She’s a punk rocker, a delinquent, and from what I’ve heard, likes porn more than Angel Dust. Urgh! Never thought anyone could beat him in that department. Apparently, Loona is another hellhound who is her friend, though they tend to get into fights a lot. Blitzo from I.M.P. told me. She wanted to do her own thing with Angel Dust, Cherri Bomb, and several other hellhounds. Like many, she wanted more freedom, status, drugs, violent fun, the whole nine yards. I suggested a deal from a distance, an offer for a better life, but of course, she ignored me. Which was perfectly fine. I’m not a big fan of dogs anyway. Once Angel and the Hellhounds got possessed, it’s only natural that she would follow.”

 The other demon had the head of a blue anglerfish with fins to resemble ears. His hair was dark blue with luminescent blue specks on it. Blue freckles were underneath his eyes, which had teal sclera and pink irises. He wore yellow safety goggles over his eyes. He wore a dark gray laboratory suit with yellow buttons, black boots, and black gloves on his hands. A fish esca was attached to his top hat on his head.

 Baxter was rushing in and out of a room that led to an underground lab. Inside, Alastor could see vials of blue, red, green and neon liquids bubbling in flasks and cylinder tubes. Reptile-like creatures were floating in fetal positions in large tanks emitting eerie green light. Machines hummed and clanged in the small room. A few little rat demons were navigating through a maze with no way out. It was one of two labs he had, the other one underneath the Hazbin Hotel.

Baxter stopped short. “Oh, Alastor, welcome! I can’t talk now. I have to conduct this next experiment soon. I’m working on an Elixir of Death capable of making angels dead and demons immortal. Though, I haven’t quite perfected it. My captured subjects didn’t fare too well when taking it.”

He mentioned to a pile of skeletons locked in small concrete cells.

Alastor raised an eyebrow. “Why are you running around?”

“I stayed up past two doing research. I have to run to wake myself up,” he said, between breaths.

“Suit yourself.”

Baxter dashed into the room and shut the door before bonding down the stairs.

“Unpredictable fellow,” he mentioned.

 “So that’s Hell’s mad scientist, Baxter,” said Alastor. “Apparently his name means ”baker,” which is ironic. From what I’ve heard, he prefers being alone and also doesn’t like being touched. He collaborates with that pathetic snake guy, an 1800’s inventor from the Industrial Revolution. From rumors I heard about him, he died on Earth on a boat, similar to the Titanic. They say he drowned after he got poisoned by one of his inventions. He was an insane inventor, helped with what was called Nazi experiments on innocent people. Prison studies, dangerous medications, shocking humans and animals, trying to use their blood to make a clone army…things like that. Apparently Baxter made A.I.s as well. Again, all that technology stuff gives me a headache. Now he mostly keeps to himself and makes robots, weapons, and poisons for our army to use against the angels.”

The tour continued on. A lone demon got too close and Alastor trapped the poor soul inside a conjured radio.

At one point, Mimzy and Rosie walked along and waved at Alastor.

 The overlord Rosie was tall and skeletal, wearing a pink fancy hat with feathers and dried flowers along the top. She wore a pink dress and bore a smile of sharp teeth, her eyes red instead of the usual black.

 Mimzy was a short and chubby woman with large thighs, short blonde hair, and big eyes with pink pupils and black sclera. Well…those were her eye colors before being replaced by red dials among circles of black. A headband with a pink feather was perched on her head. She wore a pink dazzling flapper dress along with a pink and purple necklace.

 “Alastor!” Mimzy called. “Singing session same time tomorrow night?”

“You bet, my darling dame!” he replied.

The two women wandered away.

 “Yes,” said Alastor, “Those are my dear friends, Mimzy and Rosie! Rosie used to be a harsh CEO at a sewing and clothing factory back when she was alive. Making her employees work double shifts and bathing in her victim’s blood at night. Haha! It’s so rare you kind special ladies like that. She enjoys killing and having others do her bidding, like me. She can be stern and elegant a lot of the time, but she does have a soft spot for me. We like to have fun and sing our hearts out and slice out the hearts of others while we’re at it. Good times, for sure. She owns an emporium not too far from here.”

   “Mimzy loves singing, doughnuts, and jazz. She owned a jazz club back when she was alive. In fact, we both knew each other in New Orleans. She and I used to sing, dance, and drink all the time…and we still do, occasionally. She had sex with men a few times and killed her abusive husband…perhaps that’s why she ended up down here.”

He laughed out loud.

“But there was one fateful day in a bar…around the 1920’s, I believe. She wanted to be more than just friends and started getting too touchy-feely with me. I told her I wasn’t interested in going that far, but she wouldn’t listen. She…”

He glared at the mortal, clearing his throat. “You must promise not to tell another soul. The only reason why I’m telling you is…”

 A pause.

 “You look confused…” he remarked.

 Alastor scoffed. “Nonono, it’s not because I like you, mortal, if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s because you won’t get a chance to tell anyone else after I’ve ended your life! Hahahaha!”

His laugh sounded forced. “Oops, spoiler alert.”

 Alastor’s face turned serious, his smile straining after several minutes. His radio voice dropped. “You see… one night at the bar, she had a little too much to drink. Before I knew what was happening, she slammed me against a wall in a dark corner and just kissed me with a wild look in her eyes. So surprising and so gross…definitely not casual friendship. Before I could get away, she gave me a crushing hug and…touched my privates down there…”

 The air suddenly became cold. Hell appeared to be darker than it usually was. Alastor’s face seemed to turn a paler gray.

“Ever since my father took advantage of me…I felt… so strangely helpless. She had betrayed me and invaded my boundaries. And of course, nobody else cared. I shoved her off and took out my knife. At that point, she deduced that I was the serial killer, the “Deer Devil of New Orleans.”

“She raced toward the phone to call for help. I didn’t let her get that far. We took our fight to a dark alley nearby. I pinned her down and made several long gashes on her neck and arms. Though her screaming was pleasing to hear, I didn’t want anyone else to notice. I watched the life leave her, while squeezing her plump neck. Thankfully, I was able to carry her body back home and devour the rest of her, there.”

 The Radio Demon stared forlornly at the crimson sky. “She was quite juicy and tender.”

 “…and in case you’re wondering, we’ve talked about it and we’ve decided to forget the past and enjoy our afterlives here. It’s like we’re getting a second chance, albeit a bizarre one. We still hang out sometimes when we’re not busy terrorizing others or singing while looking in the mirror.”

 Charlie walked over to Alastor, his shadow following close behind. Her demon dolls-turned bodyguards Razzle and Dazzle followed her, bat wings fluttering, antlers replacing their usual horns on their heads.

 Alastor’s radio voice returned. “Alrighty then. Now that you know all about the current denizens of Hell around here, I’d say this tour is reaching a finale.”

“Enough is enough, Alastor!” Charlie called, horns protruding from her head, her eyes pink and flames raging around her. “You will end your rein of tyranny right now…and you will let that poor mortal go!”

 “Ok then,” Alastor said in a mocking tone, holding up his hands. “The tour was over anyway. I guess I’ll just take my leave. Before I do, I have something for you, sweet Charlie.”

 He tossed several objects in the air, which landed and rolled slightly by her feet. They revealed themselves after the shadows moved away. She was staring down into the green eyed, green face of her arrogant ex-boyfriend, Seviathan, and his gray skinned sister, Helsa, her rival. Or more accurately…their severed heads.

She let out an ear-piercing scream of fright and anger, reeling back. “You…you charming traitorous bastard! You killed my high school prom date!”

“I thought you loved Vaggie, or more likely, me,” Alastor mentioned. “He and Helsa hated you and your family. They thought your little redemption idea was ridiculous. Though it was fun seeing the Eldritches and your family argue, but that’s not the point. They served their purposes, they were in the way, so I disposed of them…all for you, dear.”

“I…I can’t believe this!” she cried.  She wished her parents Lucifer, and Lilith were there to help her. She turned to the mortal. “Listen, you have to run and return to your own world, now! I’ll do what I can to cover you.”

Unfortunately, Alastor, his shadow, and all his minions had other ideas. Slowly all the denizens of Hell that he had introduced before, were arriving from every direction. They surrounded Charlie, Alastor, and the thrones. With grinning faces, they eagerly anticipated their master’s fight and victory.

 “Well then, my dear human, it was quite a pleasure hosting this tour of Hell. Now, I’m afraid, we must say our goodbyes. I can’t have you wondering around, telling everyone about what you witnessed.”

He held out his hand, the world turning red with static and symbols hovering around.

“Make a deal to be my slave and perhaps I’ll let you live.”

The mortal didn’t shake.

The static cleared. “I see. Well, in hindsight, that was a smart choice. After all, loss of free will is an even worse fate than nonexistence. Besides, having living souls in Hell for too long…that’s a major no-no. If things were “normal,” the man up there would’ve taken you to the void and punished us all for letting mortals discover this place. Angels and demons and humans meeting together…oh what a catastrophe that would be! It may mean a rift in space-time, even an end to one of more of the realms. Now, there’s one more thing to do before every world becomes mine…”

 Black tentacles glowing with red auras sprouted up from the ground around him, twitching side to side like ancient serpentine creatures. His eyes turned to red dials once more, his black antlers arching out on either side, past his head and tufts. His shadow transformed as well, turning into a shadowy wendigo beast with large claws and a sinister smile. He spoke in a low demonic voice:

 “Feast on the flesh of Charlie…and you!”

    Today’s Specials: Jambalaya, Venison, Charlie…and You…

  Tears flowed down Charlie’s pink sclera eyes as she stared at the monster in front of her. Alastor, standing posed like a gentleman, but his grin giving him the look of a madman. His shadow towered above him, claws spread out and antlers extended in dark curves.

The man whom she had so blindly trusted to help with her hotel, who cared for no one but himself…

It was at this point that Charlie told herself the harsh undeniable truth…

 The Radio Demon could never be redeemed.

 Charlie shot blasts of hot blue flames that temporarily made the wendigo shadow vanish. She was careful not to let the shadow spirits get too close to her. With her horns on top of her head, fangs bared, Charlie danced gracefully as she evaded and sliced apart every black tentacle that came her way. Splatters of blood and tentacle guts stained her red tuxedo shirt, but she was too preoccupied to care. Her powers are equally matched to Alastor’s chaotic bursts of red electricity and voodoo symbols. For every voodoo deity Alastor called upon, Charlie had another deity in mind to counteract it. She had even called upon good voodoo Loas, which seemed to work the best against Alastor’s magic.

She glanced over at the helpless mortal, and a flicker of hope came to her.

Perhaps there was a way to tip this stalemate to her favor.

 Charlie concentrated hard, eyes closed, speaking an ancient incantation in backwards Latin. The possessed demons on the sidelines grinned while also taking some steps back. In smooth motions, elegant black feathery wings grew from Charlie’s back, spreading out and igniting in pink flames. Pulling out a holy dagger from her belt, she spoke a few more lines before cutting her palm. Her red blood, infused with power, fell to the ground, right in the center of the fiery pentagram below her.

 Charlie glanced over at the mortal. She had never seen this different kind of mortal but she had a feeling they and their kind were special all on their own.

“Inside of every demon…” Charlie began.

“…is a rainbow,” the mortal finished.

  The pentagram glowed a white - blue and the flames rose up into the air. The light grew in intensity as Charlie sung a loud clear song about peace and redemption. She hoped that the demons would finally learn to appreciate her and her songs. Full of power that had previously been untapped, Charlie was in her element. In a desperate attempt to save her kingdom, she had utilized her greatest strength: the powers of music and love.

 Alas, her magic powers slowly worked…but in a way she hadn’t expected. For instead of Hell’s residents enjoying her music…they had all burst into raucous laughter and shook their heads at the sheer silliness of it all.

“That was utter shit!” Katie shrieked as the red glow from her eyes vanished.

“You call that music?” retorted Crymini, the punk rock loving hellhound.

“It needs to be 100% more sultry,” Angel Dust mentioned, as his eyes turned back to black and white. “I mean, cheesy songs like that are just sad!”

Alastor stood in shock as everyone around him were breaking free from his influence. Even Lucifer and Lilith had emerged from a newly created portal that replaced the previous pentagram that Charlie had made.

Charlie’s parents lifted themselves out of the portal, seeing their daughter for the first time in a while. Having used up much of her power, the princess collapsed to her knees.

“Charlotte!” called Lucifer. He and Lilith ran over and embraced their daughter.

“Mom, Dad, you’re alive!” Charlie said, her black wings fading away.

“Your powers…” Lilith said, surprised in tears. “You unleashed your demonic and angelic abilities at the same time.”

“I…I didn’t know I could…”

Lucifer stood up and glared at Alastor. He spoke to her again. “Of course you could, it’s what we’ve taught you in your lessons. To be a ruler of Hell is to be willing to make sacrifices and show others what you’re fully capable of.”

Lilith helped Charlie stand as the portal in the ground closed.

Alastor glanced in worry, now that he was outnumbered. Although he had his powers, there were weapons the others had that could still kill him. Hiding in the shadows for long periods of time wasn’t his idea of fun…if it wasn’t a last resort, then it was cowardly for him to do so.

With everyone back to normal, the odds weren’t nearly as favorable. The spirits would not be pleased if this kept up for long.

Alastor’s shadow, Rotlasa hovered and scowled above his head like a vulture, drumming his fingers in impatience. With all the deals he had made, the drawback was in sight. Unless Alastor could keep Hell’s souls in his control…then the spirits would gladly take his own.

“I swear I have a plan,” he muttered. “Just give me one more chance to figure something out.”

“I wonder what will happen if Alastor’s powers get absorbed into us?” Cerf asked, in excitement.

“How about when?” Muse added in a radio voice. “We’ll finally be free of him and we’ll get to roam on our own!”

“No more death threats or constant replays of human memories to shift through,” Cerf added. “I kill and wreak havoc on my own terms!”

“And, I can finally take some credit and be my own radio host,” Muse mentioned. “How about I do Yo Mama jokes instead of Dad jokes? Ha! That’d be even better!”

“You have 10 seconds to beg for mercy,” Alastor warned, sharp claws out.

Muse cleared his throat. “Yo Mama so fat, Hell’s population couldn’t fit on her!” Muse and Cerf burst into laughter. Even Vaggie had to smile at that one.

“Make that 3 seconds,” he growled.

  “Everyone is coming back to their senses,” Charlie breathed. The demon citizens shook their heads and talked to each other in confusion and outrage.

Charlie gasped, a final plan occurring to her. “We have to destroy Alastor’s staff!”

“We don’t have our powers,” Lucifer growled.

Charlie panted for breath, turning back to her regular form. “I can’t…too tired…”

Vaggie raced over and embraced Charlie. “I thought all was lost.”

Charlie nuzzled close to her girlfriend. “I think things will be okay,” she said.

Husk, Niffty, Angel, Vaggie, all of their friends formed a protective circle around Charlie and the royal family. Vox, Valentino, and Velvet stood off to the side.

���It’s all your fault, Alastor!” Vox bellowed in a robotic voice.

Sir Pentious hissed in anger off to the side in a pile of cracked egg minions.

Vaggie had her spear at the ready. Angel had two guns pointed at the Radio Demon. Even Husk and Niffty stood defiantly.

Charlie stood up as well.

“This…this is for us, and this is for the Happy Hotel!”

“Hazbin Hotel,” Husk corrected.

As Charlie and the others closed in on Alastor, he prepared himself to use all his powers to knock them back and escape. He knew it was impossible to make any more deals at this point.

It seemed like his conquering days were over.

Then he narrowed his eyes and saw someone at the opening to the living realm. Transparent silver wings on the person faded as they reached a hand forward, through the computer screen.

 A black tentacle shot out so fast, it appeared as a dark blur to onlookers. The familiar world on earth grew farther and farther away…a forceful tug and a rapid decent back into Hell. A landing on the ground by Alastor’s black pointed shoes. Alastor towered over the mortal, his hair and head almost blending into the red sky. He peered down with curious eyes.

Bond tightly by the tentacle…slowly being raised up to a standing position…

“Change of plans,” he said. “I’m not going to kill you just yet.”

“Step away from that common mortal!” Lucifer demanded. Alastor ignored him.

“Perhaps there’s a reason why you humans aren’t allowed down here. And why did it seem that you strengthened Charlie’s little spell a moment ago?”

No answer.

“Answer me, human!” he spat before something sharp cut across his torso. He roared in pain, still keeping the mortal bond in place.

“Nice shot, Vaggie,” Charlie said, the harpoon landing on the ground.

“I meant to strike him in the heart,” Vaggie complained.

 Alastor seethed and sank to his knees. Bullets from Angel’s gun hit him in the chest and head. He growled at Angel, through the smoke. There were bags under his eyes due to using up so much of his magic power. Yet, he could still feel some extra reserves coursing through his core and veins.

 His staff lit up again and his eyes turned to red dials. Static and jazz music filled the air, going specifically into the mortal’s head. The world turned red as voodoo symbols floated around.

“You should feel a lightness in your head and body. As you gaze into my eyes, you’ll be relaxed and...tuned in as it were. Don’t be alarmed if you find yourself dancing and swaying a bit.”

 The mortal’s arms suddenly moved against their will. A lone demon appeared from a portal in the ground, a sinner.

 Alastor handed the mortal a knife. “Kill him and eat him,” he ordered.

The mortal closed their eyes, even as their hand grabbed hold of the knife handle. They dug in their feet, trying to run the other way. Their body slowly turned in the direction of the helpless demon, a small blue creature with six legs and a deer’s head. The knife appeared to be stuck in their right hand, no matter how hard they shook it in protest.

The mortal was thrust forward as if on puppet strings, jabbing the knife into the poor sinner. The demon yelped and choked before going limp.

The mortal yelled in shock and horror.

A dark blue hand was sliced off by an invisible force, flying straight into the mortal’s mouth. Coppery taste and squishy flesh. The mortal recoiled and spit it out.

 Alastor grinned. “Congratulations, you’re a murdering cannibal!”

The mortal felt sick to their stomach, the spell soon lifted.

 He turned to Charlie and the others. “This proves that inside of everyone, there’s a lost cause! Especially for humans!”

The other characters looked on at the mortal in disgust and pity…or at least that’s how well the illusion magic was working.

 “You’re a failed experiment!” Baxter spoke.

“Not even I would want to fuck you,” Angel said.

“You idiot, letting that shitlord get a hold of you!” Vaggie yelled.

“What a shameful, evil act. How does it feel to be such a failure?” Katie asked with a laugh, as Tom joined in.

Husk lifted two middle fingers.

“You’re quite a mess,” Niffty added.

“So not cool,” Cherri Bomb added, shaking her head.

Charlie was crying. “I thought…there was goodness in you. I was going to invite you to the Hazbin Hotel, with high hopes. It breaks my heart.”

 The mortal covered their ears and sank to the ground on their knees, willing for the illusions to go away.

 Alastor laughed manically and snapped his fingers.

 A horde of dark shadows flew from underground in newly formed cracks along the street. Others descended from portals in the air. The demons yelled and swatted them away, but there were too many to count. Electricity and fire briefly held them off, but, like the undead, they kept popping up. Overwhelmed by the animated straw dolls underfoot and the shadows in every direction, it wasn’t too long before the denizens began to get tired.

One lone imp demon was unlucky enough to get cornered by the shadow spirits. One of them appeared to be made of black straw and had small triangular horns. Drops of blood fell from Alastor’s palms. The shadow’s eyes glowed red and in an instant, it gnawed itself inside the demon. The imp screamed and thrashed as the shadow traveled through his nerves and veins. His eyes briefly turned into red dials again before they rolled back into his head. Voodoo symbols appeared on his black, white and orange body, glowing red and burning like brands. The imp’s head leaned back with a loud crack as he let out one last agonized scream. His mouth was open wide…jets of dark light and electricity escaped through his mouth, nose, and empty white eyes. The imp’s dark astral form took on a similar imp shape. The soul was immediately pounced on by nearby spirits in the air and consumed. The imp’s body fell with a thud, face first, the voodoo symbols vanishing. The spirits who had taken the imp’s soul cackled in satisfaction.

 Unlike having their powers sucked into Alastor’s staff, this method resulted in the victim’s death and loss of the soul.

 Several small tentacles and spirits made their way to Alastor’s torso and began to repair the gaping wound made by Vaggie’s harpoon. Muscle and nerves realigned themselves and the skin started to close. As the shadows stole more souls, Alastor’s wounds healed faster.

 All the denizens fell to the ground as they tried to fight and escape. Katie Killjoy yelled as two spirits lifted her into the air, her skeletal white legs flailing.

“You filthy scum creatures!” she barked. “Take your hands off me!”

Several shadow spirits took the forms of animals: bears, wolves, and cats. They clawed and scratched at her red dress, the fabric ripping away. Even in her full demon form, she was still held in place. Tom Trench was thrown into her lap, supported by clawed limps rising up to hold the helpless duo.

“Guess I found your hotspot then?” Tom asked with a nervous laugh.

Katie slapped him across the face. “Jackass in a mask, I’ll fucking bury you alive!”

Apparently, her threat didn’t come to pass, as the shadows and tendrils attacked them some more. After their dark souls escaped from their bodies, the shadows and voodoo dolls eagerly chased after them. A still bodied sitting Vox was tied up in wires, his head screen black and cracked. Blood trailed down Alastor’s arm as he used more of his magic to appease the dark spirits. If this was a way to go, at least he’s do it on his own terms.

 Husk lay sprawled against the wall, both his red wings lying down in front of him. Alastor’s shadow had mercilessly ripped them off. He held a shivering Niffty in his furry arms as more shadows came to take their souls away.

“Fuck my life,” Husk growled as the shadows closed in.

    Baxter was hanging by a fishhook inserted into his mouth. He was held by the tentacles under the water, the mad scientist struggling to breathe. He, too, went limp after his soul was stolen.

Hellhounds howled in desperation as they tried to claw through fiery kennels near a burning lake. They, too fell prey to the spirits. The imps, including I.M.P. with horns cut off, created portals to earth and heaven in a red-eyed daze.

 Even Lucifer and Lilith were no match for the shadows and Alastor’s power. The Radio Demon sliced off both their heads with his staff…and destroyed them using Lucifer’s destructive powers.

 Mimzy and Rosie were frozen in dance poses on stage, tendrils lifting their mouths in smiles. Their bodies grew cold and stiff as the shadows arrived and claimed their prizes.

 Valentino, Arackniss, and Angel’s family were wrapped up in a web of tendrils. Henroin was hanging dead from a tree. Sir Pentious was nothing but a skeleton, his black snake skin wrapped around cracked Egg Bois.

There was a series of sickening snaps as several black tentacles ripped off Angel Dust’s four arms. He coughed up blood and gasped for breath. No amount of drugs would help him escape this reality, which was soon coming to an end.

He stared with wide eyes as Alastor walked over, his wide grin present.

“You still have feelings for me now?” he asked with a laugh.

“Creepy bastard!” Angel spat. “Go suck a rotten dick and choke on strawberries. You’re missing out…on me.”

“I don’t like either of them,” he said.

“You don’t like strawberries…or me?” Angel weakly laughed. “Nice joke.”

A shadow hovered over Angel’s face… a black boot. It landed down hard on Angel’s neck. A crunch and a gargled gasp.

Alastor absent-mindedly touched the bullet hole on his forehead. “Allow me to return the favor.”

He got out a black and red shotgun and shot Angel square in the head. Shadows taking the form of anti-LGBT gang members surrounded him and ripped out his essence.

 Charlie was bond and surrounded by thick black tentacles. They were wrapped around her wrists, torso and legs.

Alastor walked over to Charlie and cupped his hands on her cheeks.

“You have been quite a lovely friend and a beautiful demon belle,” he whispered, “but I’m afraid our time together has come to an end.”

He snapped his fingers and Charlie’s clothes vanished. Alastor’s shadow stared hungrily at her pale naked body. Charlie turned red in the face and struggled against his tight grip. Shadowy claws reached for her bare breasts, giving them firm squeezes. The shadow snickered. Fire spewed from Charlie’s mouth, causing the hands to squirm wildly and retreat.

 Charlie’s arms were pinned to her sides from Alastor’s shadow.

“You can’t do this! Let me go! I demand you!”

Static buzzed through the air as his eyes glowed red in pleasure. But it was a different kind than that of lust. It was a crazed thrill of having captured prey at his mercy. His microphone staff lit up once again.

“Farewell, little princess.”

 Sharp yellow teeth pierced through skin and sunk into her chest. Charlie’s shrill screams echoed throughout the city. Vaggie screeched as she tried to rush to her friend’s aide. Tendrils held her in place, one troublesome one snaking around her butt. Charlie’s yells and Alastor’s laughter were broadcast in every direction. The coppery smell of blood reached his nostrils; he sniffed and inhaled the scent.

“Her screams are just as musical as her voice,” he thought.

Alastor used a knife to trace crimson wet trails along her arms and thighs. Blood spilled down against white, like drips of paint on a canvas. The effect was mesmerizing to him. Killing not only was proof of his dominance, it was also his way of expressing his gruesome unique methods of creativity. This also applied when he was alive. He wanted to be known for what he did…as every victim was different, so to, were the methods Alastor used to leave his impression.

 Chunks of meat and muscle were soon detached, soon entering in between his teeth and into his mouth. The flesh was tender pork, the blood juicy nectar. He ran his long tongue through the wound, anxious to lap up more blood and savor the taste.

Charlie screamed so loud, her voice soon cracked. Vaggie screamed with her, her eye red, tears flowing down her gray face. All Charlie could do for the next several minutes was to let out pained groans and will herself not to throw up. Black spots danced across her vision as more blood was lost.

“You really are sweet in so many ways, my dear,” Alastor mentioned as he slurped up warm blood and swallowed.

Charlie turned toward the direction of the Hazbin Hotel. “Help…somebody…please,” she wheezed. She extended her shaking hand, her wrist still wrapped up in black tendrils. Vaggie and Charlie reached toward each other, tendrils keeping them apart.

Shadows surrounding Vaggie took the form of anti-lesbian thugs and rapists, representing the ones who had brutally killed her when she was alive.

“V-Vaggie…” Charlie gasped. “I…”

“I love you…” Vaggie breathed. “I fucking love you with all my heart.”

“Love…you, Vaggie…nonononono!” Charlie’s voice rose in desperation.

Charlie saw Vaggie’s yellow eye one last time before she was consumed by darkness.

With a loud crunch, Alastor’s teeth soon dove into Charlie’s neck. Her yellow eyes widened, breathing in pained gasps,

Her body became paler, beginning to go limp. Voodoo symbols appeared on her body and her eyes turned red.

“Look at me,” he purred.

With the last of the tears, she stared in fear at Alastor’s red dialed eyes. Her chest felt constricted, burning and throbbing pain. Alastor’s mouth and teeth were stained red.

“I’m always…chasing rainbows,” she sang softly, clinging onto a last thread of hope.

Blackness and static overlapped her vision.

“You know you’re never fully dressed without a smile,” Alastor said in a low demonic voice.

Charlie’s eyes rolled back and she went deathly still. Alastor tore out her heart and proceeded to eat it in one gulp.

Alastor stared long and hard at her, gently placing her body on the ground. He pushed back her curly blonde hair. He cupped her face with a hand, the skin cold. Her face and eyes were devoid of life, caked with cuts and blood. Alastor looked at his yellow stained nails almost in disbelief.

She had been the last person to perish in the familiar Pentagram City in Hell. In the distance, a few Archangels flew off in the distance, searching for demons in other areas.

 He had killed her.

Beautiful princess Charlie, his friend and associate. The one who could light up the room with her smile and songs. Her faith and hope for goodness had no limits. She had invited him into the hotel and created a group of outcast demons in the hope they would bond closer together.

Charlie, Angel, Husk, Niffty, even Vaggie, had accepted him while others either hated or feared him.

 His smile cracked. He sank to his knees. His staff clattered to the ground, the radio cutting off, sparks flying from the damaged microphone. For the first time in forever, his smile sloped down into a frown. Watery drops spilled down with a vengeance from his eyes, all the emotions he had suppressed, crashing down like a wild wave.

 Alastor’s mixed emotions sent the shadows into a frenzy. They swirled fast around him and entered into his head.

 Alastor was surrounded by darkness. Distinct sounds of barking made his heart speed up, despite the illusion.

The shadows around him turned into dogs, large snarling creatures with infected teeth. A hunter stood among them, rifle aimed right at him. Trees emerged and blocked his path, forming a sort of cage.

“Do not take my soul!” he yelled. “I gave you all of Hell’s souls!”

The shadow hunter opened his eyes, which glowed red.

“You never had one to begin with. There’s still more out in Hell. You’re an utter failure, Alastor Hazbin.”

The word was used as a mocking surname. Strangely enough, the voice sounded just like his father. Goosebumps traveled down Alastor’s skin. He hadn’t expected the shadows to turn on him so unexpectedly.

 A woman’s voice called out for help. “Stop!” she yelled. Dark skinned lady in a red cotton dress. A man with white skin, white suit, Christian necklace around his neck. He appeared to yell in a drunken rage and slapped her hard. She fell with a yelp against the black ground.

 “Mama?” Alastor called. He ran over, but the images faded.

“It’s never enough,” said one of the shadow dogs, as they surrounded him again.

“We’re always hungry for more,” growled another dog, inching closer to Alastor.

“We Loas at your beck and call,” said a dog.

“Serving you was our purpose.”

“Was?!” he spat, indignant.

“Oh sorry, sir, it is our purpose…or is it?”

The shadow canines circled around him, barely noticeable in the black.

“I’m your master. I’ll send you into the sun for this ungrateful, uncouth behavior.”

“Yes, we both made a deal,” said Alastor’s shadow. Cerf and Muse stood on either side of his counterpart.

“We gave you magic and your ability to broadcast,” he said. “You succeeded in your purpose and desire to take over Hell and be immersed in endless entertainment. Murder and rule everyone at your will. That’s all you wanted, right?”

Alastor stood silent.

“Remember that 10% of power you gave us in exchange for your gifts?” the shadow asked. “That allowed us to travel to Hell and eventually mess around with people’s heads. Heheheh…including your own.”

“You thought you were all high and mighty up there,” said one of the dogs.

“Indeed, your confidence has made you good at making deals with others,” said the hunter.

Alastor snapped his fingers, but the illusion stayed in place. “Get to the point!”

“You should know that deals come with benefits and costs for both sides,” said Alastor’s shadow. “We shadows have dwelled in the darkness for millennia. Nothing but a passing thought to other worlds. Spreading ourselves to other realms…hoping to consume souls and envelop the skies in eternal darkness.”

“Our vengeance for our kind…and a way to fight the light,” growled the hunter.

“One avenger and trickster to another,” said a grinning shadow. “You might continue to be useful. Our king, our model, our weapon… our bait!

 The dogs pounced on him, dark mouths tearing into his flesh. Alastor screamed, flailing to try and get the dogs off him.

The hunter cocked his gun and grinned. “Open Season for you, O’ Deer,” he said. “Have fun wallowing in your misery.”

A blast rang out, Alastor falling as something painful sped through his head…

 Alastor woke up, flat on the ground. Hell was deathly empty, a ghetto ghost town. He glanced over.

“Mortal? You still here?” He stomped over, smile back on his face, eyes bloodshot. “It’s just you and me now in Pentagram City. It appears you’ve seen me at my weakest. Therefore, I cannot allow you to live.”

   You Are What He Eats

 The mortal could hear Alastor’s shoes clacking on the asphalt as he slowly made his way nearby. His antlers were extended past his head and his right eye displayed a moving red radio dial. A dark hole caked with blood peered from between his eyes. Small tentacles slithered up to his forehead and made their way inside the hole, trying to repair the wound.

His red dress coat was torn and stained with blood. His red and black hair was matted, his monocle lopsided and cracked from the battles. The mortal was surprised he didn’t collapse right then and there. His eyes showed clear signs of fatigue. The sounds of an old broken down radio emitted from his mouth and the cracked microphone staff. A few tendrils of dark power seeped from it.  

 “I heard that up in your world, there’s a deadly virus going on. I saw it on the picture show the other day. Perhaps I could make you blind, erase your memories and send you back up to make you sick.”

The mortal’s face said it all, they were pleading to go back.

“But then again, you’ve been a great source of entertainment for me. I mean, I’ve told you all my stories and how Hell fell into my hands. After you’re gone, I think I’ll rest for a long while before checking out the other circles of Hell.”

 Alastor let out a sigh. “You know…since you’ve been so well-behaved, I think I’ll give you a…more merciful death than I had previously intended. If you’re wondering what it was, I was slowly going to crush you to death with a giant radio but, now that I think about it, that sounds boring. Unoriginal.”

 Alastor sighed. “While I’m thinking about it, how about some dinner? I’ll have my shadow servants make venison and Jambalaya. Think of it as your last meal. How’s that sound?”

The mortal was silent, too sacred to even nod.

 “I’ll take that as a yes. Splendid!” He clapped his hands and several horned spirits made of black straw traveled through the air, their bodies moving up and down in wave-like motions. The kitchen from the Hazbin Hotel appeared outside, the brick walls cracked on either end, outlined in green lines. The started chopping up vegetables on a cutting board, boiling a pot of water on the stove and getting a table ready. One spirit traveled through a fridge and brought out frozen deer meat.

“Leftovers are the best,” he added.

 Before long, Alastor’s shadow was holding a large white plate of the gumbo cuisine: deer meat slices, pink shrimp with tails, white rice, peppers, and other vegetables. The plate was set on the table in front of the mortal.

It smelled so good that the mortal sat down and picked up a fork. “Bon appetit,” Alastor said.

The mortal said thank you and dug in as Alastor stood and watched.

Yummy mixture of tasty food in a creamy sauce…the mortal didn’t realize how hungry they were until now. Though they were worried what fate would await them, that didn’t stop them from cleaning their plate.

Alastor grinned as the mortal helped themself to seconds. The mortal turned and narrowed their eyes, glancing at the food suspiciously.

Having read their mind, Alastor mentioned, “No, don’t worry, the food’s not poisoned. If it were, well, you’d be dead already. Haha.”

“Why aren’t you eating?”

“I made this dish for you. I have more I’ll eat later on.”

 Though they were still suspicious, they did their best to enjoy the meal in front of them. After several more mouthfuls, the mortal felt something grip the back of their neck. It felt like a clawed hand. Static filled the air and voodoo symbols hovered around. Tentacles quickly pinned the mortal down, wrapping around their waist and handcuffing their hands and feet.

Alastor’s shadow overlapped his dark hand with Alastor’s helping him channel his remaining power. “Fortunately, this kind of magic should be easy and temporary…not that I’ll need it for very long.”

Before the mortal could ask what was going on, they felt their body morphing and changing. They felt themselves moving slightly forward…seeming to fall almost. They were shrinking…could that be the reason why the mash up of food seemed to grow bigger, taking up their vision like staring at a food commercial close to a TV?

They landed softly onto the plate, the food cushioning their fall. They were now the size of a small baby, not too much bigger than the shrimp and vegetable slices around them. Their body was nude, and full of goosebumps. He had never seen shrimp, meat, or any food this close-up before. It was like looking through a microscope and seeing the details on every colorful surface.

 Unfortunately, the tentacles had also shrunken with the mortal…and would not let go.

 Demonic laughter rumbled from above, a bone rattling sound. The red eyed man sat down in the same seat the mortal had sat in before. He wrapped a red napkin around his neck and held a silver fork in his left hand.

He spoke in a whisper, which still sounded fairly loud.

“I believe I mentioned before that humans taste even sweeter than deer and demons. It’s one reason I kept killing my victims when I was alive. I couldn’t miss a great opportunity like this, not when all the excitement made me so hungry.”

The mortal screamed and struggled to break free. They were held in place.

“Count yourself lucky. Not everyone gets to die from me in this way. You should be thankful I’m providing you with this fatal reward.”

  Alastor was surly a crazed madman. Calling this fate a rewarding way to go?

Four sharp silver prongs descended from above. The mortal bit their lip and closed their eyes…

 …Only to open them and see that the fork had skewered a nearby shrimp instead. The shrimp rose up with the fork and disappeared inside the demon’s maw. He appeared to be enjoying his favorite food…or rather, all his favorite foods combined together. The fork descended again, this time landing into a chunk of red deer meat.

“This is so delicious!” he said. “Probably the best meal I’ve had in a while…maybe even since I was alive.”

The mortal cried and whimpered. With another stab, Alastor scooped up a pile of orange coated rice, a dark pink shrimp tail and a slice of red pepper. He savored every bite and took his time.

 With wide eyes, the mortal realized he was dragging this out on purpose.

 Alastor giggled and poked the human playfully in the stomach with his fork before moving on to lift up some sausage and rice with the fork. Red blood coated some parts of the fork and plate.

 All too soon, the large white plate was nearly clean. One last scoop of food and it was empty.

 Ice cold dread spread through their gut as Alastor grinned with an open mouthed smile.

 “Now, the best for last.”

  With sickening sounds, the sharp prongs were stabbed into the mortal’s back. They felt like thin hooks piercing through blood, nerves and muscle.

 “Farewell, dear morsel…remember to smile and stay tuned.”

  The screams of “Let me go!” and bellowing in pain did nothing but spur the demon further. The mortal felt themselves being lifted up and held just in front of a row of sharp yellow teeth. The teeth parted, revealing a long lavender tongue and a hole of black. His hot breath reeked of rotten flesh, coffee, liquor, and very faintly of cigarette smoke. Against their will, the human was brought closer and closer. The world briefly turned dark as sharp fangs and the flexible muscle gripped onto the mortal, pulling them in head-first. The fork prongs were removed and the mortal collapsed onto a lavender surface coated with taste buds.  More blood spilled out, merging with saliva and vanishing. Chunks of muscle and flesh had been ripped off via the fangs but the mortal was too shocked and scared to care.

 Saliva swept in from every direction, soaking the mortal in a watery slimy mess. The tongue moved around different areas of the mortal’s body, lapping up their scent and flavor. The mortal was then moved around throughout the cavernous mouth, sometimes against a wall of tissue, other times next to the row of closed fangs in the dark. At one point, the mortal got a close up view of the roof of the mouth. A dangling uvula tissue hung before the gaping tunnel, the esophagus down below. The process seemed to go on forever…it was to the Radio Demon’s liking. The mortal wondered why they weren’t dead then and there. Then they realized their “special” fate: Alastor was going to swallow them whole.

 Not too long after, the mortal was forcefully pushed back by the tongue and toward the back of the throat. Running did no good, they were pushed back like they had been hit by a wave. The surface was too slick for any footage to grab onto. It was as fruitless as trying to escape a hole, with the ground slippery like black ice. For every moment of their hands, they would slip further back.

 The mortal let out one last scream and was soon on their way down. Contracting muscles squished the mortal on all sides, helping to further the descent. The boiling pit of the upper stomach was not too far below. What would their family and friends think of when they saw the mortal missing? They certainly would never think that they had been pulled in by an all-powerful demon from a cartoon web series. They would be digested, satisfying Alastor’s appetite, and not a soul would know.

 Down and down they went. Random philosophical thoughts entered their mind. They remembered the shrimp, deer, sausage, rice and various vegetables. All of them were once living breathing things. It was a stark reminder that no matter how much humans revealed in their intelligence and the belief that they were the superior species, death would always bring them together. In this case, the human, the shrimp, deer, grains and vegetables had lived their vastly different lives on Earth and were all going to the same place. It was a strange comfortable thought, knowing that though they would die, they would not go down alone.

  The mortal died instantly once they made contact with the acid…it was akin to plummeting into lava.

 Alastor licked his lips, his eyes glowing red with pleasure. He rubbed his belly in satisfaction before standing up. One of the shadow creatures climbed up his leg and dove into his jacket. The creature poked it’s dark head out. Alastor pat the spirit on the head and tickled it under the chin. The creature croaked affectionately before traveling up and resting on his shoulder.

“At least I still have you guys,” he said. “Well then, there’s still much more to be done. Heaven’s in chaos but still hard to get…but not for long. The imps have invaded Earth. Hmm…if there are some other circles of Hell, yes…how about we go on a little journey after my sleep and healing?”

The spirit chattered excitedly, in a dark tone. Several other spirits followed Alastor, this time willing to serve their leader.

Alastor turned his head to the side and chuckled. “I figured you all would agree.”

   Part 13: Alastor Glimpses At Our World

 Before long after Alastor had his rest, it wasn’t just Pentagram City that fell into his hands.

 There were several other great cities in Hell, Thelema City and Levia City. In the former one, an indigo upside down cross glowed against the red sky, though the air was very polluted from nearby factories. Many of the residents of Thelema city had wings: dragons, hydras, bat demons, mosquito demons, among others. Still, there were plenty of animal-like demons, imps, and other sinners who lived there, too. The city was ruled by King Beezelbub, Lord of the Flies and a lower ruler. He had a black face, and many eyes that could see in every direction. Giant fly wings extended from his back, even as he wore a suit, top-hat and bow-tie. Once he heard of Lucifer’s defeat, he promptly surrendered after Alastor had burst into the palace with his army of shadow minions.

 The city of Levia was different. It lay close to a burning ocean of fire, where large fish, ancient sharks and sea monsters lurked beneath violent waves. The demon denizens used boats to catch fish, sell them at outrageously high prices and consume them. In this city, a teal symbol glowed against the red sky, an infinity symbol with two crosses on top of another…Leviathan’s symbol.

 Leviathan was another king, also lower than Lucifer but higher than Beezelbub. He had a wife, Abyzou and a prince son, Franz. This royal family had the appearance of sea monsters: sharp fangs, scaly skin of dark green, ocean blue, or black. He carried a pitchfork staff with an eel skeleton wrapped around it. Helsa, Seviathan and the rest of the Von Eldritch family were close associates with this family, rivals of the Magnes.

 Leviathan and Alastor engaged in battle, but alas, Leviathan lost as well. The smart demons took refuge in Leviathan’s palace, which was partly submerged under the fiery sea. All the cities and provinces fell under the Radio Demon. Both royal families and cities perished.

 It wasn’t long before Alastor was wearing a trophy necklace of several black Archangel heads. The holy harpoons and spears the Archangels were carrying were burned in a large pile, as they weren’t very effective against the angels.

 Unknown by most, there were other lower Circles of Hell; the current one was the first uppermost one, closest to Heaven and Earth. The second circle was a windy desert, the third, a gloomy rain-filled filthy realm, the fourth one, a haven for gamblers and property wars, the fifth, a trade site via the River Styx, the sixth, a gothic land of death, the seventh, a land of weapons, the eighth, a world of mining and disease and finally, the icy ninth circle, closest to the Void. This was where Satan, Lucifer’s dark counterpart resided.

At least until Alastor either recruited him or destroyed him.

 Sir Pentious’ hideout lay in ruins after the serpent lord’s defeat. His air ship lay in several charred pieces on the ground during their final battle. The remaining egg bois were running for their lives from hungry animated voodoo dolls with poison-tipped pins aiming toward the minions. Baxter’s labs were now covered with rocks, dirt and debris from the ground collapsing after more shadow demons and creatures burst free. The Hazbin Hotel, once grand in its haphazardly appearance was now in tatters from the Archangels and shadow spirits fighting earlier on. The stained glass windows with apples on it now lay in glass pieces of red and dark yellow. The circus tent that made up the roof was torn and no longer upright. The only thing recognizable was the lit up letters of “Hazbin” that were once on the roof.

 Once the demons of Pentagram City were freed and turned on him thanks to Charlie, the crazed Radio Demon didn’t want to risk anymore chances, thus sending the spirits to finish them off. There were times when Alastor would miss the crazy times he had with Charlie, Niffty, Mimzy, Rosie, Husk and even Angel Dust. But love of power tilted to paranoia of losing his position. As he had found a way to defeat Lucifer, he had to make sure that the same thing didn’t happen to him.

 Alastor had died once from dogs and a gunshot when he was human. Despite being powerful, he knew that Hell was filled with other kinds of dangers. He made sure he wouldn’t die again.

 Fortunately for him, all the souls that the shadows had consumed seemed to make them more powerful. They were able to fight off several more invading Archangels, even in Heaven where the sunlight could be harmful to them. Provided they evade the angel’s spears and not get too close to God, they were fulfilling their greedy desires to wreak havoc throughout the realms. For now, he appeared to be back pulling the strings of his dark demonic army. While the shadows invaded Heaven, a horde of imps traveled to the human world to kill off more humans for Alastor and the shadows to feast on. Most humans didn’t seem to notice…they were all too frantic trying to save lives during the COVID 19 virus outbreak. One of the portals opened…showing the modern city of New Orleans. Alastor peeked through one of the portals and saw nurses wearing masks rushing patients into hospitals. A group of kids and their parents were crying against the wall, all wearing face masks. Teachers and parents were chatting though their cellphones and computer screens, boarding in their homes.

One sign made Alastor gasp out loud: it read “Mardi Gras parade and festival postponed until next year due to outbreak. Please wash your hands, wear a mask and stay home.”

“Unbelievable…” he breathed, tuffs twitching.

Jazz band were no longer playing in clubs and outside. The only music that was played came from the tiny screens of iPhones from videos. Nothing like the filling all-encompassing live music that made New Orleans so well-known in the United States. The whole city looked dead, devoid of vivid purple, green and yellow colors like in the past.

Alastor stood, shocked, but then remembered all the suffering people and grinned wider.

The world of humanity was coming to an end.

Perhaps he could add newcomer sinners to his army without worrying about powerful royal families. Stolas, the pervert owl demon would not be lonely now, especially with Blitzo to play with and thousands of people entering Hell.

Alastor nodded in approval at a sign reading “Please keep six feet apart from others around you.”

“I need to enforce that rule in Hell. If only Angel has listened.”

 Alastor stepped back and the portal closed.

“This virus outbreak…what pandemonium…pure entertainment!” Alastor laughed with delight. “So many delusional protestors! Orphans, homeless folk, sick patients waiting for death to bring them home. Mortals dying right and left. Gullible humans don’t know what hits them until it’s far too late.” He never thought such an event could top the drama of the 1929 Stock Market Crash…but here it was.

 The crisis briefly brought back memories of the Spanish Flu Pandemic in 1918. Back then, his mother had gotten gravely ill and passed away. At the same time, his father had molested him a second time and left him to fend for himself. He had spiraled into a period of depression, cutting, and fasting…he had snapped and later killed his father in the most painful ways possible. This was when his killing sprees began…during the Roaring Twenties.

 How ironic that history has a way of repeating itself after a hundred years. Now, the 2020s age had begun. Alastor had, indeed, snapped once again, though he did not feel helpless nor sad this time.

 A second life. A second chance. A second opportunity to make all his enemies perish for good.

Like the virus, Alastor was a nondiscriminatory bringer of death and destruction…

…and humanity was about to enter an even Greater Depression.

Part 14: Enter…Zoophobia Alastor?!

      Vivziepop’s original Zoophobia Alastor:

 “Demon Deer, Alastor is undead and powerful and never frowns.”

“Messes with other magical deer”

“Enjoys making deals and tricking mortals into service”

“Deals with spells and dark natural magic”

“Enjoys it when people try to kill him or hunt him”

“Can’t die, but enjoys pain”

“Obsessed with eating other deer”

“Takes human and deer form”

“Can take the form of others but cannot take on any other original form”

 (holding up a red cloth with leaves on the front…magic show?) Quotes: “Smile, though your heart’s aching, smile, even though it’s breaking, when there are cloud sin the sky, you’ll get by.” Zoophobia Alastor

 Quotes: “I believe I lost some of my brain that time…” Zoophobia Alastor after he lets himself get shot and laughs. The regular Alastor is not amused.

 Quotes: “I am sorry, your highness, but I simply adore your company. May I escort you to class today?”

Classmate: “No! Get off my foot!”

Zoophobia Alastor at the Safe Haven school

 “Why happy day of birth, mortal person! I hope you have a joyous day of lovely joy. Also you would not like to have my children, you see, I would eat them.” Zoophobia Alastor answering a question on Tumblr.

  In deer form appears as a red and black deer with red eyes, yellow teeth and black spiral designs on his large ears. Hos hooves are red and legs and underside black.

In demon form, he has pale skin, red hypnotizing eyes and yellow teeth. He has black antlers sticking out but unlike regular Alastor, his ears are longer and black. He wears a different outfit, red boots, black pants, black dress coat with red undershirt and black upside down cross over it.

  Zoophobia Alastor is created after the shadows fail to defeat all the angels, due to intense sunlight that’s too much for them to handle. To top that, Cerf and Muse long to be free and so plot with Alastor’s Shadow (the leader) to try and switch places with their master. Rotsala would become physical, Alastor would be a shadow servant and Cerf and Muse would be free. Alastor, however, overhears them (as they are a part of him and they share thoughts when they are close). Instead of berating them for betrayal, he pauses. For every obstacle lays an opportunity. Alastor decides to take their idea and morph it to his own liking.

“You transformed me into my current form…I figure transforming you would be a worthy exchange. My ally must never betray me. He must be immortal, useful, and share similar traits as me. To put it short, he must be me.”

He turns his shadow into a wendigo and combines Cerf and Muse together. To complete the transformation he offers the sacrifices that are demanded: the energies from the demon souls in the shadow spirits and three things from Alastor: his furry tail, his ear tuffs and his staff that’s a part of him.

Alastor slices off his tail and tuffs, wincing while grinning, but he is hesitant to give up his staff, still suspicious of the spirits. Without his staff, he could never broadcast his murders again.

Then he gets an idea.

To appease Rotsala, his shadow, who had longed for power and freedom, he frees him from his body and service, allowing him to roam on his own as a being with antlers and wendigo traits (but still loyal to Alastor and helps him out). This results in the other spirits being free to spread chaos without having to worry about Alastor’s threats to kill them. Alastor gets to keep his staff and Zoophobia Alastor is created. The Zoophobia Alastor spells his name as Alister to avoid confusion.

But there is another catch: if Alastor dies, so too, would his shadow and Zoophobia Alastor. (They would eventually meet their demise by the Hazbin heroes of the main timeline…99%. But…there would still be a chance for the villains to win…only time would tell in the potential sequel.) The unholy trio were now linked and could feel each other’s desires and pain, despite being equals.

             For His Entertainment: Worlds Collide

(Potential sequel?)

What happens when Charlie, Alastor and the other characters meet the F.H.E. evil Alastor? Although Lucifer can destroy him, he keeps coming back. Then it hits Charlie…in order to fully defeat the darker Alastor, they must battle him in his universe…but this version of the Radio Demon has two powerful allies, his wendigo shadow and a lost shapeshifting counterpart of Alastor brought to life!

[pitiless-achilles-wept]

Always Waiting: The Cost of Never Being Done

Hi all,

I kept waiting for a time when I felt like I had time and energy to write and...surprise! It turns out that's not just around the corner when you have a chronic illness and are still working full time (not to mention trying to keep up a social life and maintain all your relationships). But I figure some information is better than none at all, so I'll get through what I can. 

You all remember (I think) that I went to Dana-Farber after my December CT scans showed significant growth of my primary tumor despite the metastatic sites holding steady. I came out of that meeting with two recommendations for clinical trials. One--my top pick--was being run out of Massachusetts General Hospital and Dana-Farber and involved an antibody-drug conjugate (IMMU-132) that has been shown to be super effective for triple-negative breast cancer but which got held up at the FDA approval stage. Doctors are pretty frustrated that the approval is still pending and that the only way to use it is on a trial, but there's hope that it might get approved in the next 6-9 months. The other is being run out of UPenn by the same doctor whose study I was on before and who I really like. It looks at the effect of chemo + an immunological agent vs. just chemo.

There were several reasons to prefer the MGH study (even though it would have necessitated traveling to Boston during the coldest months of the year), among them that I wouldn't have to endure chemotherapy as part of the trial. And it looked for a while as though I was going to be able to join it. It wasn't actively enrolling but there was a spot. I waited, in the days right before Christmas, to hear. And my doctors all worked hard, calling the PI and discussing the option of enrollment at either location. But it didn't work out. Another patient made exactly the same call I would have made--and I cannot fault them for that--and I am several places down on the waiting list. Spots open up when people leave the study, so presumably when their disease worsens or a better treatment option opens up. It only happens every couple of months. Doing the math, it seemed more likely that the drug would get approved by the FDA than that I would get to enroll.

I was pretty angry. And it was hard because there was no single person to be angry at. Not at my doctors, all of whom knew my preference, did all they could, and gave sincere apologies when it didn't work out. And not at the other patient who took the chance that I so hoped I'd be given. If anything, I was angry at the FDA for not approving the drug faster, or at whoever was funding the study for not allowing there to be more than 68 patients on it at any given time. The fact that groundbreaking, life-saving medical research is also a business constantly makes me angry. Sometimes it works in my favor (IMMU-132 will likely get fast-tracked on its second go through the FDA because someone will make money) and sometimes it doesn't (why fund more spots than you need on a clinical trial just because people want to be in it?).

So then there was more waiting. So much of having Stage 4 cancer is a waiting game. Waiting for promising new research directions. Waiting for that research to get funded. Waiting for those studies to enroll and complete. Waiting for FDA approval. Waiting for insurance approval. And, the biggest one by far, waiting to see if it works.

I was home for the holidays, not meant to see an oncologist until mid-January. A third option was proposed, which was staying on the study I had been doing with the PARP inhibitors but first doing a short course of radiation on the breast tumor. When I got home at New Year's I booked in to a radiology consultation, even though I felt a suspicion that it wasn't the best option. (Several oncologists told me that if the PARP inhibitors had stopped working on the initial tumor it was only a matter of time--and likely not much of it--before they stopped working on the metastatic sites too.) After spending nearly an hour with yet another very helpful doctor who had studied the whole history of my case (and a little bit of my research, once I told him what to Google) I saw that I was right. A tumor this size, he said, would only benefit from a pretty lengthy radiation course and we only had a grace period of 2 weeks for me to get back on the PARP study. He reminded me that it would be an option later and wishes me luck.

I'd like to pause here to do something I haven't done before and ask you all a favor. I understand exactly why this happens but please, to help me out, don't ask anymore about why I am not (yet) having surgery or radiation on the tumor. Yes, the primary tumor is the biggest and nastiest and pains me every day. You can be sure I'm also asking that question of my doctors, not only when there's a treatment change but when I tell them that it's hurting me. I know that it seems simplest to just cut it out (even if this means altering my body in a way that I am not eager to do) or try to shrink it. And I know that's why people ask. All the time. ALL the time. Unfortunately, it leaves me feeling defensive--do they not know that I have thought of this option every single day as I carry around the painful, swollen weight of a 6cm tumor?--and like I have to justify my decision. I imagine one or both those things will happen immediately. I have many (medical) reasons for not doing them yet. When I decide to do them, you will know and I will tell you more about why. But it would make me feel a lot better if I knew people weren't going to keep asking. Thank you.

Ok, back to what happened one I decided that radiation was out. Essentially, last week I officially consented to the study that's at Penn and that involves chemo. My first session will be on January 30th. I'll be going every 3 weeks. The agent I'm receiving is one of the oldest (carboplatin) and will be given in a higher dosage than when I went every week. This means it's likely to make me sicker. (The doctors did say that I'd feel worst on days 2-5 and better as the cycle wore on.) No one told me that people tolerate this one especially well and, having been so relatively lucky with side effects before, my worst-case-scenario brain assumes my luck will now be bad and that I will really struggle, lose all my hair, not be able to work, etc. Unhelpfully, although they can speak in averages, no one can predict how anyone will react to chemo. So just...wait. As usual.

To join the study, of course, there are a great many hoops all of which involve trips to Philly. I had a biopsy yesterday (Wednesday) and am spending tomorrow (Friday) getting CT and bone scans. There was an ongoing fight with my insurance company today when I got a phone call first thing in the morning telling me that they had canceled tomorrow's CTs because I didn't have authorization. Without authorization, no CT. Without a CT, no joining the study. Without joining the study, no starting chemo on time (lots of rearranging of my work and ride/support schedule). Lucky for me, my doctor's office was the one to do the calling and arguing. But it's frankly absurd to deny authorization for a CT scan to a documented Stage 4 cancer patient. I cannot even imagine what further information they would need for that one. And if I hadn't been joining a trial there would have been no rush and, likely, I would have been the one calling. The amount of admin involved in being chronically ill is frankly staggering. The end result, luckily, is that I am going in tomorrow.

And that's why I must get to bed. I know I make it sound like swinging by the hospital for a biopsy is no big deal - it's an outpatient procedure with only local anesthetic! I ate Shake Shack afterwards and went to work today! But, in fact, it's stressful to the body as well as the spirit to be on an operating table, numbed up with local anesthetic, and pierced in the lymph node or breast by an ultrasound-guided needle ten times (because you are doing so many studies and they all need research samples). The scans tomorrow will be easier - all I have to do is not eat beforehand, drink barium, lie in an x-ray contraption while having contrast dye injected through the port that's plumbed into my artery...then take a break before being injected with a radioactive tracer that will infuse my bones for a couple hours until I lie perfectly still and have them imaged. Easy, right?

I like to say that this stuff is no big deal--that it's just a lot of waiting in different places. And that's true, to an extent. The CTs don't hurt and they aren't physically demanding (although I'm not great at drinking that much barium milkshake that fast). The bone scan is kind of cool and I plan to wear my "Biohazard" t-shirt. But my normalization of the massive apparatus surrounding being ill and my incorporation of it into my everyday life does, I think, minimize the physical as well as emotional toll I pay each time I have a test or treatment. Not only are those reminders of the insidious disease that has taken so much of my life from my control--I'm not even thinking about that consciously most of the time--it's just all so relentless. There's always another call to make, appointment to keep, symptom to track, bill to pay, person to text or call. I am never, ever done.

On that last item, I do often feel burdened with guilt. I want support, but don't feel that I can always pay it back in the form of updates or thanks to those who so generously give it. But I do hope you all know that I'm here, appreciating each and every piece of it that I get. Social media may not be great for some things but it is wonderful for the small kindnesses that can buoy me up on a tougher day. This has been one, so I'm off to bed. But I send you gratitude and love.

Bex

[cassatine]

More Queen’s Shadow! Took me forever because life’s been a bitch, but also because I had long arguments with myself about technicalities that ended in huge cuts, I rewrote everything that follows twice, and drowned under my notes about Lucas before deciding to shove them to the side for now. 

If you were hoping for election results, alas, I’m still stuck on this:

The gears of democracy were well oiled, and centuries of tradition made the biennial event run smoothly, even with the inclusion of Gungan voters for only the second time in the planet’s history. Though few of them chose to vote, Padmé knew her efforts to include them were appreciated because Boss Nass had told her as much. Loudly. (Queen’s Shadow, Chapter One)

Mostly because it’s followed by a bit scene to remind us Padmé refused a proposition to amend the Naboo constitution to rule longer, which got me thinking about 1) the fact the Naboo Constitution is in all likelihood what would have been tinkered with for voting rights, but QS specifically points to *Padmé’s* efforts, reopening the whole ‘wait but how limited are the monarch’s powers’ question; 2) how QS frames the AOTC proposition as one made by a faction (rather than the Naboo as a whole; “A faction had tried to amend the constitution so that Padmé could run again,” QS Chapter One VS  “The people you served thought you did a good job. I heard they tried to amend the Constitution so you could stay in office,” AOTC) and totes an exception (“This had been tried only once before, during a time of great upheaval in Naboo’s past,” QS Chapter One), which is... kind of missing Lucas’ point, although that’s a whole other rant.

So! We don’t know much about the contents of the Constitution evoked in AOTC but for the fact that it’s where monarchs’ term limits are defined; as to the amendment, whether coming from a faction or borne of consensus, it probably came from Naboo’s legislative body (unicameral, local representatives, trustee model; pretty much all we know about it for now). The monarch is also a veto player in the process: it’s implied in AOTC with Padmé’s reply that she shot the popular demand down (“Popular rule is not democracy, Annie. It gives the people what they want, not what they need”) so in the Lucas model it’s likely the amendment had majority assent in the legislative body and went through all the hoops of being passed, whatever those are, until hitting a wall in the person of Padmé, who seems to have final approval. 

QS instead goes with a faction, ie a proposition that had not already been approved by the legislative body as a whole, but still it mentions that a “messenger had come with the amendment for Padmé to read and she had returned it unsigned after the barest of glances.” So in the EKJ model, we have two options: Option A is that amendments do not need majority assent before being proposed to the monarch for approval, and Option B is that the monarch can stop an amendment from going through the legislative body for the process of obtaining (or not) majority assent. 

All three options make sense for Naboo -the wise monarch knows what’s good for the people and will shoot down nonsense propositions- but Lucas’ model involves a basic head of state veto. We could even imagine Padmé refused the amendment on the ground that it broke entrenched clauses specifically barring the possibility of extending monarch’s powers; I’m honestly not certain of how frequently head of states’ veto powers extend to constitutional amendments (not that much afaik), but in democracy-leaning countries these veto powers are usually conceptualized as part of a system of checks and balance in service to the common good, to stop the passing of actually anti constitutional legislation, of laws serving special interests and the like (and it’s not that rare to also have measures to try and circumvent that veto anyways). 

EKJ’s models, otoh… Option A does away with the need for majority assent when it comes to constitutional amendments, which is a wide-open door to fuckery - constitutional amendment processes can veer on designed to be impossible, which isn’t great, but it sure isn’t great either if “a faction” can just propose to extend the head of state’s powers and the one requirement is for that head of state to say ‘great idea, let’s!’ Option B may not sound that different from Lucas’ model, but if the Naboo monarch’s approval is needed for a proposed constitutional amendment to go through the legislative body, their power’s not final assent but that of stopping the democratic part of the process from happening in the first place (ie the representatives going over the initial proposition and reaching a consensus - or not). So that’s not exactly great.

What’d be even less great, however, is if Padmé can just make an amendment happen. I don’t mean her having the option to propose an amendment that would then have to be approved by the legislative body, which would be perfectly normal, but her having the option to go ‘I want to give Gungans voting rights so here’s a new amendment, take note.’ 

I’m wildly speculating, admittedly, because we don’t *know* that there was a constitutional amendment wrt Gungan vote, but... well, we very much do want one. We want one, because the whole damn point of a constitution is enshrining fundamental principles that the legal apparatus must follow, and voting rights are very much one of the things we want to be in there, along with all the other important rights - and we want them defined in very strong terms, because loopholes suck ass. Universal suffrage, affirmative terms, no franchise fuckery, no funny business wrt the definition of the status of citizen, no cursed fitness criteria, entrenched clauses, guaranteed exercise - we want the whole shebang. 

And of course, we don’t want any one person to have the power to tinker with it, because that kinda defeats the whole point of putting that stuff in the constitution in the first place. And sure, we don’t even know that there was an amendment so forget knowing how it was passed, we can absolutely imagine it’d have gone through the legislative body - but it’s a Isn’t Padmé Great moment and it’s her efforts, specifically, that are pointed to, not the Naboo’s in general. It’s her that’s framed as the one that made it happen, but if she made it happen without tinkering with the constitution then the Gungans’ rights are not guaranteed, and if she tinkered with the constitution directly then we have to face the fact that it’s pretty much a joke constitution. Which is kind of a problem if Naboo’s supposed to be read as even vaguely democratic.

Previous notes: Chapter 1 / Chapter 2.a / Chapter 2.b / Chapter 3.a

[bombardthehq]

Hallucinations as top-down effects on perception Powers et al, 2016, read 27-28.06.20

a review of the state of the literature of top-down effects on perception in neuroscience; and then applies it to hallucinations (we're reading for the first part, but we'll take the second too)

They say 'present-day cognitive scientists' argue cognition does *not* influence perception. They cite: Firestone C, Scholl BJ (2015): Cognition does not affect perception: Evaluating the evidence for 'top-down' effects [in sense do they use 'perception'? perhaps more like Roftopoulos restricted sense? also: this shouldn't be seen as argument against the penetrability of 'perceptual belief' in Lyons 2011]

but 'work in computational neuroscience' challenges this view, & they also think hallucinations pose a challenge to 'srict, encapsulated modularity' [Fodor]; they'll illustrate it with 'phenomenology(!) and neuro-computational work'

MODULES OF THE MIND

Fodor shout out! they give a summary of his modular parsers - "for example, theearly vision module takes in ambient lightand outputs color representations" - which are cognitively penetrable only in a very strict, delineated way.

Fodor's modules are annoying for scientists because they're pooly defined, so difficut to falsify. Some 'ultra-cognitive neuropsychologists' even claim that the brain 'hardware' is irrelevant to the 'software' they're interested in & resist empirical evidence!

a strict modular approach requires 'functional segregation', with different parts of the brain doing different things inaccessibly to one another, but evidence supports an 'integrationism' of the brain [we saw this with the knots "Vetter & Newen" were tying themselves into]

the authors prefer "predictive coding" [like O'Callaghan et al], which they use to model the integrated mind via "functional and effective connectivity data" [a whole new language of buzzwords to learn!]

PREDICTIVE PERCEPTION IMPLIES COGNITIVE PENETRATION

while perception that corresponds to truth would be adaptive, perception that allows misbelief could also be adaptive if the misbeliefs are adaptive

we might, per Hume & Heimholtz, 'perceive what would need to be there for our sensations to make sense'

so the brain uses both bottom-up information and top-down inferences, as Heimholtz argued [fascinating - who was that guy?]

it uses the top-down inferences to 'compute precision-weighted prediction errors' to arrie at 'an optimal estimation' - cite a bunch of 'predictive coding' & 'attention' papers

top-down has a long history in neuroscience, from the 80s

Friston K (2005): A theory of cortical responses -- the origin of 'predictive coding'

contra Fodor, some studies claim that 'early visual processing' ('perception' in Roftopoulos) is influenced by 'non-perceptual information' ... "semantic priming increasesspeed and accuracy of detection by minimizing prediction error" ... " Word contexts result inambiguous shapes being perceived as themissing letters that complete aword" ... a bunch of others

THE BURDEN OF PROOF: ESTABLISHING TOP-DOWN INFERENCES IN PERCEPTION

they go over Firestone & Scholl's criticisms of the 'new look' research

they say that they're plagued w/ problems that can be avoided by following these guidelines:

1. Disentangle perceptual from decisional processes 2. Dissociatereaction time effects from primary perceptual changes 3. Avoid demand characteristics 4. Ensure adequate low-level stimulus control 5. Guarante eequal attentional allocation across conditions.

these issues are inherent to tasks where perception guides a behaviour decision (so research would have to be done without that)

but a 'Bayesian formulation' doesn't permit this distinction; 'Signal Detection Theory' appears to, but it also allows cognition to influence perception.

"Top-down processes can even alter the mechanical properties of sensory organs by alteringthe signal-to-noise ratio" [wow]

they will argue that top-down influence is clearest 'when sensory input is completely absent'-- 'when experiences are hallucinated'

HALLUCINATIONS AS EXAMPLES OF TOP-DOWN PENETRATION

Hallucinations can be consistent w/ affective states; guilt & disease when depressed, etc.

hallucinations are fairly common in even 'non-clinical' cases; they occur in 28% of the population -- hallucinations may be 'an extreme of normal functioning', not a 'failure of modularity'

they give some support for hallucinations being top-down: "prior knowledge of a visual scene conferredanadvantage in recognizing a degraded version of that image" & patients at risk for psychosis were 'particularly susceptible to this advantage'; similarly, patients who were taught to associate a difficult-to-detect noise w/ a visual stimuli began hearing it when shown the visual w/out the noise -- esp. patients 'who hallucinate'

experiences of uncertainty increase the influence of top-down

they feel that studying penetrability via hallucinatory experiences gets around the problems Firestone & Scholl identify; neuroimaging might do it too

now they'll try to integrate this understanding of halluciations as top-down w/ 'notions of neural modularity and connectivity'

BRAIN LESIONS, MODULARITY, CONNECTIVIT AND HALLUCINATIONS

They propose that "inter-regional effects" mediate top-down influence on perception

these are often discussed in terms of 'attention'; 'predictive coding' theory conceives of attention as 'the precision of priors' and 'prediction errors'

a bit of statistics jargon for modelling we don't care about, although they make the interesting equivalence between 'change over time' (uncertainty) and 'predictive relationship between states' (reliability) [difference & repetition baby!] -- the gist is that all this stuff is a promising, plausible explanation of some difficult areas of the data but ['precision weighting'] is still waiting on more empirical trials

so someone walking home after watching a scary movie might have 'precise' enough 'priors', ie. a strongly-weighted 'background theory' (in Fodor's terms), to actually see the shadows on the street as being darker than they are... & if they were precise enough, strong enough, they'd really hallucinate

their support: a single case where a lesion caused hallucinations; 'functional connectivity' between the lesion location ad othre regions; 'effective (directioal) connectivity' in patients w/ Audo-Visual Hallucinations

they'll use these to argue that 'top-down priors' influence perception, contra strict encapsulation

1. lesion-induced hallucinosis

with 'graph-theory' fMRIs of the brain are parsed into 'hubs (sub-networks)', with a subset of regions connecting those sub-networks ('connectors'). see:

lesions are more likely in 'rich-club hubs', regions that mediate long-range connectivity between connected information processing hubs

the limbic system is a rich-club hub & has been implicated in 'the global specification of' precision weighting

it is not, however, part of *early perception*; they'll instead show "regions like orbitofrontal cortexpenetrate perceptual processing in primary sensory cortices giving rise to hallucinations"

~this part gets very heavy on the neuroscience & is beyond me - but the gist is that they're able to look at which hubs do what & how that gets disrupted by lesioins. It appears that there are definitely such things as modules like Fodor's parser, responsible for different faculties, & which parts of the brain these are found in is well settled - its just that these seem to be cognitively penetrable bc of how they behave with lesions. However, these are not 'proof' of it, just 'candidate' explanations for penetration

2. lesion effects on graph theory metrics

re: connectivity, lesions are more disruptive, & can be disruptive of the whole brain, when they occur in between-module connectios (rich club hubs); & they alter connectivity in opposing, un-lesioned hemispheres [this is a challenge for 'cognitive neuropsychology' - the sophist-like 'cognitivists' from before]

"We suggest that the rich-club hubs that alter global network function ... are also the hubs involved in specifying global precision and therefore updating of inference in predictive coding" -- & thats how early perception is cognitively penetrated (ie. 'higher' priors re: precision are mediated by the same stuff that mediate 'predictive coding' in early perception) [note this is a 'suggestion', but they do give a study in support]

there *may* be a connection w/ schizophrenia and lesions in these areas, but it hasnt really been shown yet; but some neuropsychiatrists do work off of this

"In our predictive coding approach informational integration (between modules) is mediated via precision weighting of priors and prediction errors, perhaps through rich club hubs" -- but "the exact relationshipbetween psychological 9modularity and modularity in functional connectivity remains an open empirical question."

ie. percetion is cognitively penetrated because 'predictive coding' (used in early perception) is mediated by a 'precision weighting' of 'priors and prediction errors' via rich club hubs

3. directional effects

'Dynamic causal modeling' (DCM) is a way of looking for 'directional' connectivity in fMRI data

one study examining 'inner speech processing' found very little connectivity "from Wernicke’s to Broca’s areas" in schizophrenic patients w/ auditory hallucinations (vs. schizophrenic patients without them) -- suggesting 'precision of processing in Broca's was higher than in Wernicke's'

they say that this data is consstent w/ informaton from 'higher' regions penetrating lower regions

[Wernicke's area is involved in comprehension of written & spoken language, while Broca's area is involved in the production of language; the idea here is that the patients who experienced auditory hallucinations woud also, when processing language, rely more on the higher level functions of Broca's area for precision weighting and much less so on the earlier perception of Wernicke's area]

'predictions' are top-down (ie. 'flow from less to more laminated cortices') while 'prediction errors' are bottom-up (the opposite) [what are 'prediction errors'? maybe like an 'error warning'?]

a lot of neuroscience stuff about the insula, priors, and lots of things I dont understand, which I dont need to note; the conclusion is tat they speculative that rich club hubs are "well placed to implement changes in gain control as a function of the precision of predictions and prediction errors." [ie. rich club hubs are the 'court' and 'court of appeals' of the brain, 'hearing' prediction & prediciton errors & itself 'sentencing' gain control changes]

another paragraph of studies showing similar things, this time with 'bi-stable perception', percepts that switch dominance 'on their own' (without a change in sensory input) -- this happes more in schizophrenics, but currently hasnt been looked at w/r/t hallucinations specifically

DISCUSSION & FUTURE DIRECTIONS

a summary of the above

their argument is that the data is inconsistent with 'an encapsulated modularity of mind'

w/r/t hallucinations, it looks like the top-down 'gain control mechanisms' ... 'sculpt' perceptions even in the absence of sensation

perception is cognitively penetrated insofar as it minimizes 'overall long-term' prediction error; so the knowing how the Muller-Lyre illusion works doesn't act on my perception because 'the illusion is Bayes optimal' - seeing in this way is more *overall long term* precise

there is some contradiction about schizophrenics & their tendency to perceive illusions - sometimes it works less, sometimes more. Thye say that this cannot be generalized & ought to be treated case by case; there is a *hierarchy* of perceptual systems and 'informaton processing can be impaired at different levels of the hierarchy'

so illusions might fail at a lower level in the hierarchy while hallucinations are generated at a higher level

they discuss work they did w/ ketamine; it doesnt normally cause hallucinations, but they found that it did in the MRI scan which is 'perceptually denuded (dark, still, rythmically noisy)'

ketamine enhances 'bottom up noise'; they argued then that sensory deprivation induces hallucination via top-down priors. "This is similar to the paradoxical effect of hearing loss and vision loss on hallucinations."

higher level precision increases to compensate for lower level prediction errors

so the increased bottom-up feed of ketamine creates prediciton errors when sensory deprived & this produces halluciations -- the priors top-down predictively organizing the error-filled bottom-up feed

so in general, hallucinations are produced by 'the dynamic interaction between priors and prediction errors'

they hint at some arguments that are strongly consonant with our own experiences of schizophrenia. Fist, that it is possible to 'conjure up' hallucinations at will. Secondly, that there are two types of hallucination - those 'with insight' (accompanied by a sense of unreality), and those 'without insight' (which feel as real as any other percept). We have always argued both of these things. [We have always argued that schizophrenia involves a kind of top-down *compulsion*, ie. I *have to* conjure this...]

[despair-ninja-everything-agency]

Ninjago: Ongeki Hibiki - an idea of Kamen Rider X Ninjago

Ever since I came back to the Kamen Rider series, one particular Rider-Ninjago match up has been stuck on me for a while. Believe it or not, it's between Kamen Rider Hibiki and Cole's dad, Lou. There's a reason why I gave his surname (and by extention Cole) as Hibiki.

While I haven't watch the entirety of Kamen Rider Hibiki (or Kamen Rider in general, really) save for some YouTube clips, I at least have the general gist of the plot and how the staff changes affect the second half of the season.

But enough of that, let's get to the proposed story of Lou as Hibiki.

Overview and Brief History

Back in 20... what? 10? 12? It was when Gaim was the latest Kamen Rider on air. There's really not much premise since it was still in a "casting agency" phase, meaning I still playing matching up without much story put on thought.

Lou is no different. I assigned him to be Hibiki simply for the latter's theme in music. He's in a team consisting of Dr. Julien as Kabuto and Ed Walker as Den-O, both of which doesn't have valid reasons to be matched up with like Lou did other than it sounds cool on paper. You could argue that Ed is Den-O because Den-O is one of if not the quirkiest Heisei Phase 1 Rider and Ed is that quirky while Kabuto has technological emphasis in which Dr. Julien is related to but these kinda stretching it.

Come this year. 2020.

Lou's Story as Hibiki

The idea is that, since it's confirmed that Onis exist in Ninjago's World, there's supposedly a small Oni tribe known as the Ongeki tribe, famous for their usage of music in battle. This again split into 4 clans. The clan of Ibuki which specialized in wind instruments, the Zanki clan specialized in string instruments, an unnamed clan which specialized in keyboard instruments, and the Hibiki clan which specialized in percussion instruments. They are separate from the usual Onis of Ninjago's Continuity in that they rather left out of the never ending war between Onis and Dragons, only come out to the battlefield whenever necessary. However, this in turn causes friction with the other Onis, the latter deeming them to be cowards. It resulted in a genocide against the Ongeki tribe, with only one (or a few, maybe) survivor.

Lou (original name unknown) was an Oni from the Hibiki clan. He specifically mastered in taiko drums, in leu with the original Hibiki. Not much known about his past except he was a trained warrior. While skilled, he's considered to be one of the lowest ranking warrior. On the day of the genocide, he managed to escape to the realm which would become Ninjago with the help of another Oni, which may or may not be Mistaké.

As an Oni, his form is closer to that of the Oni of Kamen Rider Hibiki, in particular Hibiki himself, rather that the Oni of Ninjago. Once settled in Ninjago, he changed into a form that we now know as Lou. As a disguised human, he often changing identities and jobs. But each jobs he had were always have to do with music, something he felt reminding him of his home.

This might be forced but let's talk of how Lou transforms into his Oni form using a device rather than at will like most of Ninjago's Oni. Cuz I like the Henshin Onsa :P

Lou, back then know with a different name that suspiciously similar to the OG Hibiki (Hitoshi Hidaka) down to the alletrative name, was involved with helping the First Spinjitzu Master fending off the Oni forces sent to capture him. However, since he's weaker than the FSM, he's captured quickly by the Oni. Believing that having his powers would be an obstacle to them, the Oni forces decided to seal away his Oni powers and form, rendering him a normal man. They didn't manage to do the same to Mistaké tho, as they're driven away from Ninjago.

It is at this time that the FSM offered to help him tapping into his Oni powers, which led to the creation of the Henshin Onsa, a tuning-fork shaped transformation device. It lets him to access his Oni powers and ability yet not enough to return him to his Oni form. He only finally able to turn into his Oni form again after a tougher training, and even then he still need to use the Onsa for it.

Due to the extended lifespan of an Oni, Lou had lived long enough to know the history of Ninjago itself in the making. However, he only known as what he is now when he met with The Elemental Master of Earth. They both fell in love quite fast and not even the revelation of Lou's true identity hindered their love for one another. This led to their marriage and later the birth of Cole.

Cole was unaware of his heritage as an Oni as Lou tried his best not talk about his other activity, often disguised it as something related to his current occupation as the Royal Blacksmith. Speaking of Royal Blacksmith, he established it with three other people not long after Cole's birth.

Now for something related to his injury, that is his broken foot. See, while he presented it as some insignificant accident, in reality he was injured while fighting against a giant creature similar to the Makamou of KR Hibiki. In his defense, it did happened during a big party in which he's invited to.

General Appearance as Hibiki

While his Oni form is that of OG Hibiki's, Lou's transformed or powered state is usually signified with his suit turning into a simple purple colored hakama with brown ropes fastening a golden Oni face similar to the early Ninja gi where the Oni face is replaced with elemental symblos. His footwear is a pair of wooden sandals and a pair of white socks. A red taiko drumstick known as Ongekibou usually appears on his back in a crossing manner fastened by the ropes.

Rider AU vs Symphogear AU vs A Canon Divergance

Here's the deal. I have two or three idea for Lou as Hibiki.

The first one is a Canon Divergance, in which I have elaborated above. His relationship with Cole is still strained, even more so once Cole found out that Lou isn't what he appears to be. But it does work around later on.

The second is the Rider AU. While the whole Ongeki tribe thing still exist, its demise is instead causes by a group known as Shocker (the OG Kamen Rider's enemy). The circumstance of his transformation is different as well. In here, Lou was almost got killed and went missing, leading to the then teenager Cole to go after Shocker in revenge. This leads to him nearly dying, only surviving thanks to Dr. Julien turning him into a cyborg and become Ninjago's equivalent of Kamen Rider Black. Lou returns to his only family after recovering from his wound.

The last is Symphogear AU. His circumstance is that he's an early expermentation of Symphogear's prototype, utilizing the power of music (specifically taiko music) as opposed to the more well known song. In appearance, he is also different to his successor in that he wears a hakama instead of armors. Of course, his son Cole become the next Symphogear wielder who utilize the power of Gungnir relic. Lou's relic is left unknown.

[romchomp]

The Best Romance Tropes According to Me

What are my favorite romance tropes?

The more I thought about this question of what are my favorite romance tropes the more I noticed that my interest in different tropes often depended on whether or not the story was an original story or fan-fiction. This brings me to a trope I have confusing feelings on-

Enemies to lovers

Enemies to lovers? Great in fanfiction. You get to explore what a romantic dynamic would look like between characters that are rivals/enemies in their canon universe. Depending on the writer this could be done brilliantly and even give you a sense that the original material cheated you.

However, how many cases of enemies to lovers done well exist in canon stories? I can’t even think of any at the top of my head. I want to say I like enemies to lovers but how can I when I only like the concept and potential but can’t think of a single example where I liked it?

Rivals to lovers, this trope’s sibling, is another good trope. Probably easier to find, but even this one you’ll mostly see in fanon. Could this have to do with rivals and antagonists often being the same gender of the protagonist? Probably, but there's also a risk of toxicity being associated with any couple that forms out of this trope that I think a lot of writers want to avoid. There's also the fact that in most cases love interests and rivals/enemies are planned and established from the very beginning of a story. Odds are the rival and love interest are separate characters that both interact with the protagonist on a regular basis from the start of the story. Their purposes are different. The only way enemies to lovers will ever happen is if the author planned for that enemy to eventually become a love interest.

Does that mean more authors should consider stories where the rival/enemy eventually becomes the love interest? Maybe? This could also lead to the rivalry being toned down as a result. Bottom line, it's a complicated trope.

Love triangles

Love triangles are interesting to me because they seem to be consistently popular while also being one of the most criticized tropes even outside of the romance genre. Love triangles can be well written, gripping, and generally make a story better...but it’s hard. A good love triangle is hard to pull off and will usually have costs. Getting characters involved in love triangles will in most cases make them less likable. Which is fine. We all love-loving the bad guys. You know, so long as the story knows they’re a bad guy. Don’t try and make the audience sympathize with someone that’s stringing two people around. It. Won’t. Work. That is only one form of love triangles though. Not all of them are made up of this one person who is trying to pick between two people you often see pushed in many teen dramas. Love triangles can also take a form that goes more like A likes B, B likes C, and C likes A. What makes this form of love triangles work so much is that the characters know what they want. There's love triangles where no one involved will admit their feelings because the person they like is the same person that their friend likes. You'll grow impatient at times, but it works wonders for making the characters more empathetic. There's also the love triangles that aren't really love triangles and more of a hectic, love web.

An example of a love triangle I really like would be Toradora. The short lived love triangle in Orange is the New Black was well done. Gilmore Girls did a sort-of good job on the love triangle between Lorelei, Luke, and Christopher mostly just because Lorelei's relationships with the two paralleled and contrasted in interesting ways.  Ranma 1/2 and School Rumble would be examples of the love web I described earlier. Glee would also be a contender for good love webs, and would be an exception among teen dramas. I still have issues with most of the love triangles in all of these. Toradora is the only one that gets a complete free pass.

Childhood sweethearts

God I love this one. It has similarities to friends to lovers but I think this trope stands on it’s own as well. Often times these stories will involve a separation of sorts. So really, it’s childhood sweethearts to strangers to lovers. There’s so much character development and character change necessary here and I love it. It has a lot of campy potential despite most of these tending to end rather sadly.

You see this one in love triangles a lot too. In most cases the childhood sweetheart looses. I think this has a lot to do with the childhood sweetheart being framed as "the safe route" and the "safe" love interest never wins. I could get into how much I dislike The Passionate vs The Safe Love Interest trope, but that's a different blog post.

My Girl is kind of the go-to movie for this trope, I think. Though there won’t be a ‘to strangers to lovers' part. There’s Anohana, 5 Centimeters per Second, No. 6, and do you see what I mean about the trope being cursed with sad endings.

Not much to say on this one. It’s a solid trope with not that many exceptions to discuss.

Friends to lovers

A trope that I think is necessary to separate from Childhood Sweethearts or Childhood Friends. Friends to Lovers often has a different pacing and tone compared to childhood sweethearts and it doesn't run into bad endings nearly as often as the prior. What I really like about friends to lovers is that it works really well in both, dramas as well as romances that take themselves less seriously. It works in fanfiction really well (it’s the dream for most ships after all) as well written in canon. It’s an easier trope to do well.

When it comes to examples of Friends to lovers...the thing is that almost anything could technically count. There has to be some degree of friendship or acquaintanceship for romantic feelingss to develop from. I think the key is specifying long term friends to lovers.

Ron and Hermione. Easy. Toradora is here once again. Toradora is kind of perfect for a blog post like this since it's layered with romance tropes and still manages to be amazing because it holds substance and that's [I'm about to go on a mini tangent but I think it's worth keeping in here] what I think is most important when it comes to tropes: does the story carrying the trope have any substance? It's not the tropes or cliches that make a story bad. It's how they are used and if there is anything there besides them. However, I firmly believe that it is easier to command substance from some tropes more than others [End of tangent]. Lorelei and Luke could fit here too. There's also one of my favorite manwhas to date, 'Our Relationship is...'. In Our Relationship the trope is the very core of the story unlike the other examples I've given. Please read 'Our Relationship Is...' it's so good.

Fake Relationships

I’m just gonna come out and say it. I love fake dating stories. For one, they technically skip all the steps a usual romance takes since the chase takes a unique form. Here, the love interests are being thrown at each other’s friends and family right off the bat. They’re normally introduced to each others flaws and insecurities earlier than usual romances and if done well, do it without feeling out of place. It’s a pace I can get behind. There’s also guaranteed humor somewhere in there, which is nice.

The best part is that it’s just as entertaining to see in fanfiction as it is in canon material.

Bonus: if one of them tells their friends they’re “dating” s/o and the friends are like finally lmao, leaving the one involved having to internally question what do you mean finally we’re not even actually dating.

I just talked this trope up so much and the only good example I can think of is The Proposal. I don’t care what the ratings say, that movie is amazing. While You Were Sleeping, another Sandra Bullock movie, while I’m not the biggest fan of it personally, the movie fits the trope pretty well. There’s also...Nisekoi....I’m really not making a good argument for this trope

Return to Hometown

This isn’t a trope that only belongs to romances but man, if there isn’t something romantic about the concept. Something I really like about this one is that it puts the reader/viewer in the shoes of the main character. This trope can also be pretty broad. Do they meet a new person that moved into their small hometown while they were away and as a result, allow the main character to see the place in a new way? Are they forced to run into an old lover from their hometown, causing them to remember the things they loved but also hated about it? You can do so much with this one.

It’s campy. It’s nostalgic. It’s probably, definitely set in the fall or winter...which is the kind of atmosphere I can get into.

The only example of the trope going through my head right now is Kanon, which is a wonderful example please watch it if you haven’t. I looked up ‘return to hometown romance movies’ on google to see if something would spark my memory and the first search result was ‘hallmark movies’ so maybe there’s something in that pile of content I'm fine with avoiding for now.

Childhood Friends to Lovers

Ah. Last but not least, my absolute favorite trope, childhood friends to lovers. The best thing about childhood friends to lovers is that it can fit into almost every other trope that I've already mentioned at the same time. I know I've been saying this word a lot but I'm going to say it again: It's campy. The campy potential is so strong. This trope is also just kind of guaranteed to be a slow burn, and I love my slow burns.

The characters have a deep understanding of each other, but often realize as they get older that there were things they might of misjudged about the other because kids aren't exactly the best at empathy or understanding other people's circumstances. There's more opportunities to see character development. It shares a lot of strengths that childhood sweethearts has, the main difference being the romance comes later in this one.

Our Relationship is... fits here as well! Please read it! I'll mention Kanon once again too. Ron and Hermione...again. Okay um. Let's go with saying something I'd like to see in this genre more often: make it gay please.

That's all I got for this one guys.

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[zetabooks-blog1]

ON CONFLICT AND VIOLENCE

Cristian Ciocan & Paul Marinescu: Introduction: On Conflict and Violence  [OPEN ACCESS]

Bernhard Waldenfels: Metamorphoses of Violence (translation by Amalia Trepca)

Abstract: Based on the argument that violence has a parasitic quality rather than an essence of its own, this article seeks to bring to light the conversion processes through which violence crystallises out of, as well as into, various phenomena. Violence is first examined in terms of the relation between perpetrator and victim with, however, an emphasis on the fact that violence cannot be reduced to the intention or the act of the perpetrator. On the contrary, violence is shown to have the character of pathos and to open up a dimension of which the act itself is only a part. Further, the author argues that in being directed towards the other, violence harbours a performative contradiction: by turning the addressee into a thing to be destroyed, the addressing act cancels itself. The paper also sets out to identify the breeding grounds of violence, which, due to its capacity for conversion, can be detected in various phenomena that are not necessarily linked to violence. This means that violence can resort to various mechanisms and can emerge in multiple fields of activity: in bureaucracy, economics, medicine, politics, war, and most importantly, in everyday life, hidden under inconspicuous but sometimes pervasive forms.

Pascal Delhom: L’expérience de la violence subie : accès aux phénomènes

Abstract: There are three possible ways of access to phenomena of suffered violence: the first is the experience of those who have suffered violence themselves; the second is the experience of eyewitnesses; the third, which is the most frequent one, is an indirect access through the testimony of people belonging to the first two categories. Each way of access has advantages but also serious difficulties, both in terms of the objectivity of the experience and of the possibility to express it in language. No one is free from an affective and a normative dimension; this implies that there is a certain tension with regard to the phenomenological reduction. The paper offers an analysis of these ways of access.

James Mensch: Trust and Violence

Abstract: Jean Améry’s memoir of his imprisonment and torture by the Nazis links the loss of “trust in the world” to the violence he experienced.  The loss of trust makes him feel homeless.  He can no longer find a place in the intersubjective world, the world for everyone.  What is this “trust in the world” (Weltvertrauen)?  How does violence destroy it?  In this article, I use Améry’s remarks as guide for understanding the relation of violence, trust, and homelessness.  Trust, I argue, is crucial to the constitution of the intersubjective world.  Violence, by undermining trust in Others, destroys the sense that this world is “for everyone.”  In excluding the victim from its “for everyone,” it enforces a homelessness that transforms the victim’s very being-in-the-world.

Michael Staudigl: Parasitic Confrontations: Toward a Phenomenology of Collective Violence  [OPEN ACCESS]

Abstract: This paper provides a phenomenological exploration of the phenomenon of collective violence, specifically by following the leading clue of war from Plato to the “new wars” of late globalization. It first focuses on thegenealogy of the legitimization of collective violence in terms of “counterviolence” and then demonstrates how it is mediated by constructions of “the other” in terms of “violence incarnate.” Finally, it proposes to explore such constructions—including the “barbarian” in Greek antiquity, “the cannibal” in the context of Colonialism, or the contemporary cipher of religious irrationality— as mirror effects of one’s own disavowed forms of violence.

Burkhard Liebsch: „Herrscht“ Krieg ‒ seit je her, gegenwärtig und auf immer? „Polemologische“ Überlegungen zur Frage, ob wir ihm ausgesetzt oder (auch) ausgeliefert sind

Abstract: This essay critically examines theories of war which imply an affirmation of the unavoid­able rule of war. In contrast to such theories, the author advocates a notion of war that presupposes processes of becoming enemies, which eventually enthrone war as “dominating” power. From this position result a number of desiderata of research which call for a revision of actual theories of war.

Delia Popa: Entre réversibilité et réverbération. Une approche phénoménologique de la violence sociale

Abstract: How can phenomenology help address the problem of social violence? Can phenomenology provide an adequate description of its essence? Is the phenomenological method able to deepen and transform its comprehension? The paper is an attempt to answer these questions through an analysis of three different testimonies of social violence entailing elements of phenomenological description. Starting with a minimal definition of the phenomenological description, understood as search for a meaning for a lived experience and substitution with those who suffer, the article discusses several issues raised by a phenomenological description of social violence, such as the danger of justifying it when searching for its meaning, of blaming the victims who suffered from it or of prolonging its traumatizing effects. The paper ends by questioning the ways in which the phenomenological method can offer support for resilience and inspire resistance to social violence.

Irene Breuer: Phenomenological Reflections on the Intertwining of Violence, Place and Memory. The Memorials of the Ungraspable

Abstract: Acts of violence develop in relation to place and involve the violation of its very limits. Every significant place is a scene of history, its limits embrace presence and sense. As such, it is the life-worldly home of memory. In this article, I will retrieve the bodily affective dimension of the phenomenon of place memory in instances of public commemoration. Drawing on different philosophical horizons like those of mainly Heidegger, Husserl, Merleau-Ponty, Derrida, Adorno, Ricœur and Bataille, I’ll contrast their different perspectives on the question of the intertwining of violence, place and memory and refer them to the narrative work of memorials (e.g. Libeskind’s and Eisenman’s for Berlin). Insofar violence has been traditionally represented and thereby obliterated by architecture, we may ask how should genocide, as the unspeakable and ungraspable be expressed? I’ll suggest that it can only be attained by the suspension of meaning and presence: A narrative of bodily affections, of pathos, suffering and excess that accounts for what in itself remains beyond expression.

Mihai Ometiță: Hermeneutic Violence and Interpretive Conflict: Heidegger vs. Cassirer on Kant

Abstract: The paper aims to rectify the reception of Heidegger’s so-called “hermeneutic violence,” by addressing the under-investigated issue of its actual target and rationale. Since the publication of Kant and the Problem of Metaphysics, his immediate readers, such as Cassirer, as well as more recent commentators, accused Heidegger of doing violence to Kant’s and other philosophers’ texts. I show how the rationale of Heidegger’s self-acknowledged violence becomes tenable in light of his personal notes on his Kant book, and of several hermeneutic tenets from Being and Time. The violence at stake turns out to be a genuine method, involving the appropriation (Zueignen) and the elaboration (Ausarbeiten) of an interpreted text. Its target, I argue, is not the text itself, as it was often assumed, but its reception by a community or tradition. Thus, that violence may well instill interpretive conflict, yet its purpose is to salvage a text from a conventional and ossified reception, namely, from what Heidegger regards as the authoritarianism of idle talk (Gerede) in a philosophical milieu.

Chiara Pesaresi: « L’ébranlement du monde bien connu » : Lectures croisées de Patočka et Maldiney

Abstract: The aim of this article is to analyze the idea of the event conceived as crisis and conflict in Patočka and Maldiney’s thought. The event is what tears the horizon of the meaningful world apart and opens a new world: it represents the opening of a crisis in the human existence and at the same time the condition of any future crisis to come. By reading Maldiney’s texts on the “pathique” and the psychosis along with Patočka’s descriptions of historical existence, we shall then discover that human existence is exposed (and respond) to this chaotic and conflictual dimension. In fact, what defines the existence—the individual existence (Maldiney) as well as the historical, shared existence (Patočka)—is the exposure to such a conflict and to the critical event, i.e. to the possibility of its own shaking. Furthermore, the event appears as the root of both the krisis and the “koinè”, whether it is in the form of the encounter (Maldiney) or the community cohesion (Patočka).

Jason W. Alvis: Ricœur on Violence and Religion: Or, Violence Gives Rise to Thought  [OPEN ACCESS]

Abstract: This essay demonstrates Ricoeur’s explication of the various roles religion can play especially in regards to acts of collective violence, and also how his conceptions take us beyond the traditional dichotomies of religion as necessarily violent, or necessarily peaceful. It focuses on three essays where his most formidable reflections on religion and violence can be found: “Religion and Symbolic Violence” (1999), “Power and Violence” (first published 1989), and “State and Violence” (first published 1955). First, the essay hermeneutically describes the intricate relationship between violence and religion within these three essays, pointing to (i) three perils of religion especially regarding communities, (ii) the figure of the magistrate within some religiously motivated political revolutions, and (iii) the danger of ecclesiastical orders demonstrating not only authority but also forms of domination. The essay then phenomenologically ties these three threads together, demonstrating a way of understanding both the promises and perils of religion as it relates to violence, both in the work of Ricoeur and beyond it.

Michael Barber: Could the Focus on Transcendental Violence Be Violent?

Abstract: Eddo Evink criticizes Emmanuel Levinas’s supposed view that all acts of intentionality and rationality commit transcendental violence against their objects, including the Other. If this is so, Levinas undermines the possibility of his own philosophy. Evink further argues: that there are non-violent forms of intentionality and so intentionality is only potentially violent; that some non-violent counter-pole is needed to define violence; that there are contradictions in Levinas’s notion of violence; that Levinas, like empiricists, aspires to a metaphysical absolute untainted by language; and that he presupposes the philosophical, ontological, and linguistic frameworks he criticizes. However, to answer these objections, one must understand Levinas as developing two distinct modalities of relationship: Being and Otherwise than Being. These modalities clash in the face-to-face relationship when the phenomenon of the face defects into responsibility for the Other. The epistemology and ontology of Being involve distinctive acts, affects, forms of temporality, and experiences of self that undergo a tectonic shift in confrontation with the ethically obligating Other. Here the focus is not on the violence of concepts ever seeking to subjugate the Other but rather on the Other whose summons both provokes knowledge to retreat and is able to be shown in a philosophy, even if that philosophy betrays the saying in the said while also having the potential to reduce that betrayal. The focus should not be on transcendental violence tracking down and cornering the Other but on the Other ethically disrupting Being. With that focus, it becomes clear that concentrating on transcendental violence is a kind of violence.

Leonard Lawlor: The Most Difficult Task: On the Idea of an Impure, Pure Non-Violence (in Derrida)

Abstract: This article attempts to elaborate on the Derridean idea of transcendental violence and his idea of “violence against violence.” It does this by examining the structure of the gift as Derrida presents it in Given Time. The article lays out in detail all of the conditions for the gift Derrida presents across Given Time. More precisely, it examines Derrida’s analysis of the giving of counterfeit money. The conclusion it draws is that the giving of counterfeit money comes closest to the golden mean between exchange and non-exchange (or pure gift-giving), the golden mean between violence and non-violence. But the open question is: should we prescribe the giving of counterfeit money for all gift-giving and even for human relations of friendship and love?

VARIA

Mădălina Guzun: Briser le silence : Le déploiement de la langue comme traduction du silence en son chez Martin Heidegger

Abstract: The aim of the present article is to offer a new interpretation of Heidegger’s account of the unfolding of language by analyzing the notion of Geläut der Stille, “sounding gathering of silence.” Taking as a starting point the experience of silence described by Stefan George in his poem “The Word,” the article presents the opposition between silence and the sounding words, showing that the latter coincide with the language we speak. The passage from silence to the spoken language belongs to the unfolding of language itself, which presents itself as a translation of silence, redefining thus what translation originally is. The latter, understood as violence and harmony, gathers itself under the term of “rift,” overcoming thus the ontological difference and offering us a radically new perspective over the nature of “relation” within Heidegger’s thinking.

Max Schaefer: Bonds of Trust: Thinking the Limits of Reciprocity with Heidegger and Michel Henry

Abstract: This paper seeks to address whether human life harbours the possibility of a gratuitous or non-reciprocal form of trust. To address this issue, I take up Descartes’ account of the cogito as the essence of all appearing. With his interpretation of Descartes’ account of the cogito as an immanent and affective mode of appearing, I maintain that Henry provides the transcendental foundation for a non-reciprocal form of trust, which the history of Western philosophy has largely covered over by forgetting this aspect of Descartes’ thought. I demonstrate that Heidegger’s reading of Descartes serves as a pre-eminent example of this. Because Heidegger overlooks Descartes’ insight into the essence of appearing, and reduces this essence to the finite transcendence of the world, I maintain that Heidegger reduces trust to reciprocal relations of understanding between beings of shared contexts of significance.

Ahmet Süner: The Ineluctable Sign in Sartre’s Account of Franconay’s Imitation

Abstract: The most interesting example of all the physical images that Sartre examines in L’Imaginaire concerns a female performer’s (Franconay’s) imitation of a male performer (Chevalier). The example is a unique instance in which Sartre deals explicitly with the possibility of ambiguity and hybridity in consciousness. Sartre’s introduction of the sign into the consciousness of imitation ties the perception of Franconay with the imaged Chevalier, but it also leads to the dissemination of the sign across the entire consciousness, a consequence that runs against Sartre’s analytic tendencies. I argue that, despite Sartre’s endeavor to keep the sign separate from perception and the image, the sign is a diffuse property of the entire consciousness of imitation, penetrating and contaminating its every instant. Sartre’s account of Franconay’s imitation contains the germs of the destruction of his clear-cut analytic distinctions, revealing the irreducible hybridity of the sign with both perception and the image.

Mathieu Cochereau: La Dissidence et l’unité des trois mouvements de l’existence chez Jan Patočka

Abstract: Jan Patočka is usually connected with Czech dissidence, a political movement which stood up against the communist government. We want to make the hypothesis that the notion of dissidence is not originally a political one but a phenomenological one above all. Dissidence is a movement of distancing which implies a rootedness and this movement of distancing is peculiar to human beings. Patočka calls “movement of human existence” this paradoxical rootedness which is a extramundane and mundane position. Thus, we have to review the theory of the three movements of human existence. While it is tempting to separate the third movement, as a movement of transcendence, and to describe it as a political dissidence, we would like to show that the three movements (and not only the third), the existence as a movement, have to be read as a Dissidence.

BOOK REVIEWS

Erik Norman Dzwiza-Ohlsen: Hans Blumenberg, Phänomenologische Schriften. 1981–1988 (Berlin: Suhrkamp, 2018)

Alexandru Bejinariu: Alexander Schnell, Was ist Phänomenologie? (Frankfurt a. Main: Vittorio Klostermann, 2019)

Christian Ferencz-Flatz: Nicolas De Warren & Thomas Vongehr (eds), Philosophers at the Front. Phenomenology and the First World War (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 2017)

Mihaela-Cătălina Condruz: Mark Vorobej, The concept of violence (New York: Routledge, 2016)

Delia Popa: Claire Marin, Rupture(s) (Paris: L’édition de L’Observatoire/La relève, 2019)

[gregellner]

Cover by Jenny Frison.

Today I’ll be reviewing the complete four-issue limited series “Year One” style story for Cassandra “Cassie” Hack, the protagonist of “Hack/Slash,” titled “Hack/Slash: My First Maniac.” It is written by Tim Seeley, with artwork by Daniel Leister, colors by Mark Englert, and letters by Crank!, all published by Image Comics (@imagecomics) as the first of the “Hack/Slash” properties to be published there before they took up the second ongoing series.

As a warning, this review is also an analysis, and so will include spoilers regarding this arc and major developments therein.

Throughout “My First Maniac,” Tim Seeley’s word choice rules the day, showcasing changing scenarios through repetition of common lines that have small, significant variations. Particularly in the first issue, there are intense parallels during the last two days that Cassie spent in her Wisconsin hometown, with her survivor’s guilt and vulnerability contrasting against her utter viciousness on her last day, figuring out how to use her “otherness” to make others afraid of her. On a similar note, the repeated use of certain phrases such as “come home” and similar words helps to add on to how alone Ms. Hack really feels and how she does, deep down, wish she could be at home again, but can’t seem to allow that for herself, a recurring struggle for her throughout her slasher slayer career.

Repetition also continues through events, such as the aforementioned last two days and her feelings about firearms. While Hack was at first upset and in shock over shooting her mother after she had become a slasher, noting that the gun felt heavy in her hands, her almost casual execution of the slasher she set out to hunt in this arc and intentional use of the gun she had actually demanded from someone else gives a look at how far she has delved into her killer lifestyle.

Religion, in particular Christianity, gets some mention, and acts as a contrast to the slashers themselves. Seeing as Cassie doesn’t know much about them (and won’t know much at all beyond the basics for years), she equates their ability to rise from the dead by sheer hatred as a kind of opposite number to Jesus of Nazareth, albeit not an actual antichrist. “The Bible says Jesus Christ died for our sins and returned to show his love. What about those who died for their own sins and returned to show their hate?” While this connection isn’t really all that important, it helps to tie readers in to the story, given a common perspective that many are at least familiar with on a cursory level.

Tim Seeley has long proposed that all of the famous slasher film franchises (and a few horror comic series) take place within the same world and share that world with “Hack/Slash,” with crossovers including “Hack/Slash vs. Chucky” (Child’s Play after Seed of Chucky), “Cassie and Vlad meet the Re-Animator” (Re-Animator), and “Hatchet/Slash” (Hatchet) alongside other more subdued connections or offhand references. In this limited series, Cassie’s original research into slashers includes direct mentions of the actions of Freddy Kreuger of A Nightmare on Elm Street (“a man who kills in dreams in Ohio”), Michael Myers of Halloween (“a masked maniac who terrorizes a small town on Halloween”), and Jason Voorhees of Friday the 13th (“a camp plagued for thirty years by a psycho who won’t die”) who, though already mentioned to exist within the world by Charles Lee “Chucky” Ray in his one-shot story, are still a nice treat for readers.

As a fun little note, Delilah Hack’s year of death is mentioned on her tombstone as 2004, the same year that the original “Hack/Slash” story, “Euthanized,” was published, and therefore probably the same year that this story takes place.

“My First Maniac” is, at its core, a tragedy. Cassie Hack wants a normal life, and by right, probably would have had one, albeit one filled with bullying, in most other circumstances. But with her life’s path and her survivor’s guilt, any hope for a happy life is mercilessly, repeatedly dashed, and she isn’t the only one to whom this genre applies.

First, let’s look to the case of Cassie herself. From the outset, re-killing her undead mother has irrevocably changed her life, leading her down a dark path that results in running away from the loving foster care of Shannon and Karen Moore. As she starts to develop a new, real life for herself in Buffalo Center, Iowa, over the course of her first intentional slasher hunt, she actually seems to be happy, or at least give the idea of possibly becoming happier with time. She develops friends, and seems on the road to becoming better again after her violent turn in Wisconsin. Then, of course, things go horribly wrong, as becomes a pattern for her life from then on.

On the other hand, we have the supporting cast and even the villains. The Moores just wanted to help Cassie, but her self-given mission had consumed her to such a degree that any happiness would be impossible. Sarah Bunn and her boyfriend Kelsey each have a tragic tale, each a victim of the slasher of the story in their own way. Cassie even identifies them as a “free-spirited girl with a dark secret” and a “genuine good guy” respectively, acknowledging that they also were suffering from tragedy much as she was in their own ways. Even the slasher was in his own way a victim, though not as sympathetic. He was murdered in a rage, but his actions in life were not kind either, so there is less sympathy afforded to him.

A major part of “My First Maniac” is not just the case itself, but how Cassie Hack evolves from a relatively innocent girl into… well, kind of a sociopathic girl with intense post-traumatic stress disorder. By the end of the arc, she even claims that “Cassie Hack, teenage girl” is dead.

The majority of the symptoms of her disorder do not come into play during the limited series (having apparently been developed gradually in the months since), but her increased aggression is definitely important. Over the course of a single day, perhaps two, Cassie Hack goes from reluctantly shooting her mother to death in order to save someone’s life, to experiencing such severe survivor’s guilt that she feels she deserves the beating that a trio of bullies led by group alpha Rhianna Stegman are giving her, to beating Stegman to within an inch of her life with her bare hands the next day and threatening to murder her if she ever tried again. Even more, that very night she threatened her foster father’s life with a knife in his bed to keep him from following her as she ran away, further showing that she is seriously unwell. The speed with which she shifts from a shy, bullied girl to making death threats and physical assault demonstrate a thoroughly fractured mind, one that will only get worse as years of hunting take their toll.

On another note, it is important to be aware that while Cassie is a huntress of monsters, she is not a good person on her own. When she witnesses Jay and Ludo beating up a homosexual student outside of Club Fuzz after work, she almost doesn’t help at all on account of them not being her prey and her not being a hero, only actually getting involved when the odds are obviously in her favor once Kelsey and Sarah jumped in. Part of this relates to how she feels she can’t have anyone to care about, seeing any attachments as collateral in her hunt that she cannot afford (something that takes years for her to grasp is not necessarily the case, and never really leaves her mindset altogether), but another is the fact that she is so obsessed with her mission that she has faith in nothing else at all and makes attempts to refuse any other ways to help.

Even with her increasingly hardened exterior, there is still a sheltered, hidden part of Cassie Hack that is still that flustered, shy, teenage girl who ran away from home. Being the center of attention and attracting compliments leaves her very shy, with her new goth wardrobe breaking her out of her intense focus when people bring up how good she looks. Furthermore, when someone actually tells her she is a cool girl, she is overjoyed, actually writing it down in her diary with her feet up and crossed like a guy she likes noticed her.

Daniel Leister’s artwork is amazingly done, and in two different, but similar styles. On the one hand, we have the present day storyline, with realistic, well-detailed faces and scenes, the emotion clear on everyone’s faces (especially important for this particular slasher). Blood and guts are in horrific, terrifying detail through which Leister considers the amount of time that has passed since the blood has spilled, ranging from a general stain to caked on gore or bruises to a smear to a bloody, oozing wound. Water is shown in detail as well, with sweat and splashes helping to showcase effort in a way that many other artists might overlook.

On the other hand, the tellings of the tale of the slasher threat are somewhat more simplistic in nature, with flatter artwork that somehow works very well regardless, playing off in a way that is not unlike the works of Jack Kirby. In fact, the artwork even utilizes his famous “Kirby dot” technique!

On the whole, it is very well put together in some of the best art on “Hack/Slash” in general (not to put down any of the other phenomenal artists either).

The issue would be incomplete without Mark Englert’s coloring. Darkness and light, across different times of day, different ages of bruising, or even different styles of artwork help to make the entire story feel like a classic slasher movie, even as it is clearly something different.

The coloring of blood and gore is particularly well handled, as each of these elements has a weight to them, with light and shadow playing across them to showcase the amount of blood spilled or the fact that a blood stain may just be a single layer, whether a minor smear on clothing or skin. By using that kind of detail, readers are made aware of how fresh, how wet, a wound really is at any particular moment.

Together, this four-issue series is put together wonderfully, with the masterful writing, excellent illustrations, and disturbingly realistic coloring working together to make yet another piece of the amazing “Hack/Slash” epic.

[uk-news-talking-politics]

May's Brexit deal is a humiliation for Britain

By Ian Dunt

It doesn't matter how you look at it. You can squint with one eye, or stand upside down, or peer at it askew. You can be as sympathetic or stern as you like. It makes no difference. From every angle, on every basis, Theresa May's deal is horrific.

It is intolerable on a democratic, political, economic and logical basis. It takes one of the world's leading powers and puts it in a diplomatic and trading stranglehold. It undermines Britain's economic status, demolishes its political status, severs its territorial integrity and imposes a dangerous and unacceptable governance structure on Northern Ireland.

The problem is not that it is badly written. Some incredibly talented and ingenious people have put this thing together. It is technically accomplished and well drafted. The problem is due to the parameters they were given to work with.

May wanted to extricate the UK from EU rules, prevent a hard border on the island of Ireland, and maintain the territorial integrity of the whole of the UK. This wasn't possible and the experiment to pretend otherwise has resulted in a Frankenstein's monster, a broken, grotesque invention, stumbling around, half-alive, tormented by anger against its creator.

The punishing timetable of the deal is reminiscent of Article 50, with all the failure and pain that entails. It is a conveyor belt towards an abattoir.

The deal offers a transition to the end of 2020. This can be extended once, but this must be done by July 2020. This is, to all intents and purposes, the new cliff edge. Without an extension, we will fall into the backstop. And no matter what wasteful lies May tells now, Britain will never pick the backstop, because it is appalling.

So in July 2020 the UK will inevitably ask for an extension of transition. The EU will give it to us, but first they'll ask for money. And we will pay. We'll pay them anything they ask for, because the entire structure of the deal gives the EU negotiating advantage.

You can't blame the EU for it really. They are coming up with these short time scales and cliff edges because it gives them a negotiating advantage. There's only so cross you can get with someone for ruthlessly pursuing their interests when your own leaders are too incompetent to do the same. Be angry instead at the Brexiters who demand short transitions in an emotional fit and fail to understand that it is our own leverage they eradicate.

The extension can only last two years, until the end of 2022. But this is not enough time. The EU will be focusing on European elections until May 2019. No meaningful talks will take place until there is a new commissioner, sometime in the autumn. Then Britain needs to work out what it wants, something it has so far showed no signs of being able to do. Then it needs to negotiate it. Then it needs to implement it - a job which can be big or small, depending on the outcome of the negotiation. And then it needs to be ratified, which requires approval from every parliament, in every EU member state. The last part alone took two years for Canada.

This thing is not going to be done by 2022.

There are alternatives. The UK could decide on a much simpler approach. If it signed up to full EEA and customs union membership, it could be done in time.

Maybe if it decided to sign up to a standard free trade agreement - the Canada-with-no-frills model - it could also be done. But this latter option would need to be taken immediately, not after years of negotiation, because it involves a massive spending project on customs infrastructure, including the building of new roads, the hiring of tens of thousands of staff, and the creation of countless new domestic regulators. It would also sever Northern Ireland completely from the rest of the UK, because it would need to stay in the EU ecosystem while the rest of us pulled away.

So what do you do instead? How do you get this through in time? There is a chance we could split the deal into two pieces - one to be passed quickly by the EU and the other going out to member states for after-the-fact ratification. But it's not at all clear that we can get all the right bits in the right agreement for this to work. And then what happens? If they reject it, our entire trading system with our largest partner becomes illegal. We become hostages to every individual EU member state and a splattering of regional parliaments.

If 2022 ends with no deal in place, which by any realistic assessment it will, we fall into the backstop. And then the real horror story starts. Overnight we lose services access to the continent. Our customs arrangements shrivel up into a little ball. There are no transport agreements, so permits for UK hauliers will be limited to five per cent of existing traffic. There are no veterinary or phytosanitary agreements, so agricultural products will be stopped and checked at the border, causing huge disruption. There is no common regulatory regime on goods, so they will also be checked and tested.

We become little more than an addendum to the EU's trading relationships with other countries. Article 3 Part 1(a) of Annex 2 of the Northern Ireland Protocol in the withdrawal agreement states that "the United Kingdom shall align the tariffs and rules applicable in its customs territory with the [EU's] Common Customs Tariff as set out in Article 56(2) of Regulation (EU) 952/2013."

That means we've harmonised our tariffs with those of the EU and have to apply the same duty rate to whichever country they do a deal with. But there is no reciprocal duty for those countries to open up their markets to us, because the deal is for EU member states - not countries in bespoke backstop agreements which have been devised to stop them imploding.

Technically, we can try and negotiate a seperate trade deal with these countries, but what do we have to negotiate with? Not tariffs, because those are controlled by the EU. And not regulations either.

There are just two possible offers. We can open up our services and offer more visas so immigrants can come here more easily. The first is of limited usefulness, the second is politically unpalatable.

We're strapped on the surgery table, unable to move, being opened out to whoever wants to do a deal with the EU and getting nothing in return.

And after all that, May didn't even prevent the carving up of the UK's territorial integrity in the Irish Sea, as she claimed. There are actually two regulatory levels in the backstop proposal.

Britain is only signed up to 'level playing field' provisions. On competition and state aid, that is dynamic, which means that it updates whenever the EU updates its own rules. On the environment, social and workers rights it is non-regression, which means that it must stick to the existing level but doesn't need to track future changes. Northern Ireland, however, is fully signed up to the EU's regulatory regime for goods, a much higher standard of alignment.

That has significant consequences. It means agricultural goods sent from the UK must be checked at the border - in this case at the Port of Larne. At the moment, we're planning to unilaterally follow all EU regulations anyway, so this is just a fracture. But if we start going another away, for instance by following the hard Brexit siren calls for a Canada deal, that fracture splinters open.

The ERG talk of vassalage is overblown in the case of the UK, but it is not at all hysterical when you apply it to Northern Ireland. It is about to accept laws which it does not have any democratic means of refusing, amending or overturning. This is intolerable, on the most basic possible notion of democratic theory.

Article 15 of the Northern Ireland Protocol lays out the murky process of how this takes place. EU laws that are "amended or replaced" are automatically updated in Northern Ireland, with no say from the people they will affect. If it's a new law, the UK must be informed of it and there will be an "exchange of views". Then it is either passed, or, if it is not, "all further possibilities" are explored to maintain the Protocol. If that doesn't work, the EU takes "appropriate remedial measures".

It's obvious how this will work in practice. They'll find a way to start stuffing new laws into old ones, so that they can designate them as rules being "altered or replaced" and apply them automatically. If not, how many disregarded new laws would it take for the agreement to break down? Sure, Britain can kick back a few. But the reality of the dynamic is that it'll have to nod most of them through .

The Northern Irish situation is morally confusing. This move prevents a border, which would have done real damage. It also offers it a foot in both the UK and EU single market, which will likely lead to a boost to investment. But the democratic case is appalling.

It might even be illegal. There was a 1999 European Convention of Human Rights case called Matthews vs the United Kingdom, in which a Gibraltan resident asked a simple question: If I have to abide by EU laws, how come I don't get to elect an MEP? That's a damn fine question and one which can equally be asked here.

And then after all this horror show is over, in the distant future, we get to our final state. And what is that exactly? No-one knows. The political declaration published yesterday is a post-truth document.

It promises "the protection of [the UK's] internal market" while containing measures which do the opposite. It guarantees the UK an "independent trade policy" when in reality removing any possible leverage it would have to deliver one. It is firm on free movement - May's only real red line, in reality the motivating cause for this entire degenerate project - but even that is subject to change because the UK's negotiating posture might "evolve over time".

At one stage the document basically lays out the two alternate visions of the UK-EU relationship, one with close regulatory alignment and one with the hard Brexiters' fanciful and pathetic allusions to high tech solutions.

And then finally the truth is revealed, in a killer paragraph buried in the text:

"The extent of the United Kingdom's commitments on customs and regulatory cooperation, including with regard to alignment of rules, would be taken into account in the application of related checks and controls, considering this as a factor in reducing risk. This, combined with the use of all available facilitative arrangements as described above, can lead to a spectrum of different outcomes for administrative processes as well as checks and controls."

A spectrum of outcomes. The same old dilemma as ever just sits there because the UK is unprepared to have an honest conversation about it. Do you want trade or control? The extent to which you give up one allows you more of the other. But even now, as we lose our status in the world, it is just an unresolved as it ever was. We don't know where the hell we're going.

Instead of acknowledging this, May has just lied and lied lied. She lied when she said we could make a success of Brexit. She lied when she said we could secure full market access while maintaining full sovereignty. She lied when she said she could get a trade deal before the end of Article 50. She lied when she said there would be no need for transition. She lied when she said it would not need to be extended. She lied when she said Britain might choose between either extension or the backstop. She's lying now when she says this is a good deal for Britain, or that any kind of economic or political success might follow from it, or that it is in the national interest. Her administration has been defined by a relentless attempt to conceal the reality of Brexit from public and parliament, so she can survive another day, another week, another month. It is such a shabby, tawdry spectacle.

And now here we are, staring at a deal so unimaginably bad that no-one wants it. Not the EU, not the UK, not Brexiters, not Remainers, not Tories, and not Labour.

No-one wants it and we're told to do it anyway. That is an insane proposition and it should be rejected.